


Vespertine

by ColorfulCrayola



Series: The Noctivagant Series [3]
Category: Alien Series, Five Nights at Freddy's, Predator Series
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Horror, Mild Language, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Other, Revised Version, Side Story, Undercover, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 18:42:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13393914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulCrayola/pseuds/ColorfulCrayola
Summary: A side-story to the main Noctivagant series, and not really canon. Nichole, fresh into the FBI, is given a mission with her partner Devon to investigate a mysterious restaurant suspected of a haunting. She must go undercover as the new nightguard to verify these claims. She survived a night trapped on a ship with killer aliens, but can she survived more than one with angry animatronics?





	1. Never Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> This is the edited version of Vespertine, which I posted on FF.net like three years ago! Anyway, if you're new here (to Nichole's story), this takes place sometime after my Phantasm fic, but is NOT CANON to the main Nichole storyline. If you haven't read those, don't fear. You don't really need to. I'll just go over the highlights real quick of what happened in Phantasm.
> 
> If you're familiar with the Aliens/Predator franchises, this'll make sense. If you're not, then I apologize. The gist of it is that when Nichole was a teenager, she was trapped on a crashed Predator ship full of xenomorphs (Aliens) and had to fight to survive. She teamed up with a Predator she named Wolf and with his help, she was able to survive the night and even became buddies with the guy. She joined the FBI in order to destroy what Aliens they captured and awaits a time where she can see Wolf again.
> 
> Again, this story is only SEMI-CANON NOT REALLY to Nichole's main story. I just wanted to write a FNAF fanfic and didn't want to come up with new characters so I just put Nichole and CO in it because I'm lazy sorry!
> 
> It's completely finished, even though it's only 8 chapters long. I mean, I'm not gonna write a full-fledged fic on a story that isn't even canon to my main series! So, enjoy, I guess! Hopefully there's a little bit of something for everyone in here. It's edited and little cleaner than the original, so hopefully it's not a total disaster. It's still pretty rough and I'm not really going to go through and fix any left-over typos, so please forgive me in advance! I'm on a bit of a time crunch here.
> 
> ~ Crayola

Headquarters' in-house gym wasn't anything to write home about, but it gave me something to do and, more importantly, a way to stay in shape. Jogging every morning kept my stamina up, but I needed to be strong, too. I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to keep up with Wolf, but I couldn't just give up and not strengthen my muscles.

Weight training was important to me, though it was hard work. I wasn't really built to be muscular—I was more athletic than anything.

My legs limited the length of time I could spend doing any kind of exercise, but I did my best.

After my last rep, I sat on the bench and took a drink from my water bottle. When there was downtime between missions and paperwork, there wasn't much to do around the office. I couldn't go poking around the cryptid vaults and cells too often, otherwise the higher ups would start to wonder what it was I was up to. Especially since there was only one that I was really interested in.

"Agent Shain?" The voice pulled my gaze up from the mats and I straightened my back. It was the errand-boy of the office, Walter. Waif of a man; greasy hair and big teeth.

"Yes?"

He nodded and slapped a folder against his palm. "Get changed, boss has one for you."

I was on my feet immediately and in the locker room. Every potential mission carried me further up the food chain. Right now, it was all a bunch of false alarms—people crying wolf, claiming they saw a UFO or the Chupacabra. We investigated every rock that fell from space, every mutilated opossum or cat corpse people thought was some undiscovered monster.

I had even heard rumors that some of senior agents from other departments were out tracking down  _ghosts_  and shit. None of that was my line of specialty, though. I spent most of my time investigating possible alien sightings, but I picked up whatever case they would give me, too.

Most were dead ends.

Some, though, yielded quite interesting results. I hoped this whatever they had for me this time was going to be one of those times.

It took some time to move from the first floor to the thirteenth, and then I was busting into the director's office—after knocking, of course. I was eager to have something to occupy my time, but I wasn't born in a barn.

"What wild goose chase do you have for us this time?" I asked as soon as I walked through the door to Director Dixon's office. Agent Devon Hart, my partner, was there already.

Dixon looked up from a pile of papers and raised his eyebrows. "Ah, good. You're both here now. We have a time limit on this one, agents. We've been watching this place for years and we finally have a way inside. We have a possible haunting or several well-executed murders and cover ups."

Hart and I shared a glance, then he said, "A haunting? That's not really our—"

Dixon cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I'm aware. This case would normally go to agents from another department, but most of them are busy with their own cases. Like I said, we're on a time crunch. You shouldn't have any problems at least identifying if this a true haunting or just a crazed man. We'll have someone take over if it's the former, since you may not know how to deal with such a thing. Until then, though, treat this like any other case and figure out what's going on. Head to records for the file."

"Sure thing, sir," Hart said with a dip of his head. All I managed was a curt nod: I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, nothing polite would come out.

This would be the first real mission I'd been on that wasn't investigating a space rock or dead creature. Real murders—real victims—alright, that mentality was horrible, and it was certainly tragic. However, I was being given the chance, along with my partner, to bring their killer to justice.

Even if it was a dead person with a grudge.

Just another stepping stone to my goal. I went on these stupid dead ends and did everything they asked. I'd only been working there for a year, but I had a good feeling that I was one of the most reliable members of the division: I accepted every request from the higher-ups, I never complained about my partner, and I hadn't once called in sick no matter how ill I felt. Things were still moving slowly, and I couldn't see the xenomorphs yet, but I had hope that it would be soon.

Once I'd managed to gain the clearance, all I had to do was make a plan to kill them all.

What I had to show for my work so far was access to the files. No one batted an eye when I asked for the latest developments, not when I was the one who had led to their capture three years ago. As far as I knew, one of the originals had metamorphosed into a queen and they were talking about bringing in hosts.

Thank the lord that they hadn't been cleared for that yet.

Those awful creatures—I didn't want to think about what terrible things awaited whatever hosts the higher-ups managed to shove in there with them.

"Hello? Earth to Nichole. Do you read?"

I was snapped back to reality and I turned sharply to Hart, eyes wide. He lifted his hands defensively and chuckled, "Anyone home? The lights are on."

"Sorry," I said, relaxing my shoulders. "I was lost in thought. . .what were you saying?"

He motioned for me to enter the elevator first and I stepped inside. "Ah, I was just talking for the sake of talking. What kinda haunting do you think?  _Amityville_ or  _Poltergeist_?"

"I wouldn't even begin to know, Devon. Not much into horror movies."

"Really? You didn't peg me for someone who find that stuff scary," he replied, hitting the button for B1. "I mean, you're one of our youngest agents and even fought off real aliens when you were in high school. What's a few horror movies?"

Grimacing, I shot him a sidelong glance. "Horror movies don't  _scare_  me. I just don't  _like_  them. Is there a problem with that?"

Hart quickly backpedaled. "What? No, sorry, that's not what I meant! I was just yanking your chain. I just can't wrap my mind around all this supernatural stuff, y'know. I'm actually kind of hoping this is just a regular murder case. Those I'm used to!"

"You get used to these ones, too," I breathed.

The elevator  _ping_ ed when we arrived at the correct floor and we were set free. William's "office" was at the end of the hall and it was a short walk. The doors were unlocked as usual, so we let ourselves in without an announcement.

It was dark in the records room. Whether it was because of the dim overhead lights or the sheer number of filing cabinets, I didn't know. A single desk sat in the center of the small bedroom-sized area, and it was cluttered with stacks of paper, open manila folders, and about three dozen pens. One man sat at the helm, glasses set snugly against his face. His dark hair was slicked back by what could only be several gallons of hair gel.

"William?" I greeted him, approaching the desk with Hart at my side.

He looked up from an open box filled with folders and papers. For a moment he did nothing but stare at us like he wasn't sure we were real, and then he put the box's lid back into place and offered us a welcoming smile.

"Ah—Agents Shain and Hart, I presume?"

"Yes," I replied.

William lifted his index finger into the air and nodded. "Yes, yes the director said he'd send you my way. I have, um, all the files ready for you. C'mere."

Hart and I stepped closer to his desk as we were summoned, and I tried not to fidget while he thumbed through the stack of files. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he picked a cabinet seemingly at random and pulled out a thick stack of files and papers, then brought it back to his desk where he let it drop to the surface with a loud noise. It was enough to cause a slight tremor to dash up my spine, but I ignored the unease and my own reflex to fight.

"Here we are. Case number 16-10SN3005. Possible haunting at a family restaurant." William shook his head. "I know aliens are your specialties, but the bureau covers  _everything_  that the general public isn't allowed to know about. You guys'll be okay, though, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, we'll be fine. The suspense is killing me, just tell us what we're doing," Hart said.

William held out the file for us and I snatched it from his hand before Hart could, then started thumbing through the contents.

The look on his face didn't fade even as he let his arm fall back to the desk. "Alright then. The skinny of it is that the place has closed and reopened three or four times now. It's due to shut down at the end of next month, for good this time. There's been a lot of shenanigans going on, but it's been on our radar since some children went missing. They caught  _someone_ , but the bodies were never found."

I flicked through the pile of newspaper clippings and reports—most pertaining to the two restaurants before the newest. A few children had been presumed murdered by a man they put in jail. One man lost his entire frontal lobe when one of the animatronics malfunctioned and bit him. Another kid was killed by a wearable animatronic suit when  _it_ malfunctioned.

"All of these are dated from years and years ago. What's going on now?" I asked, staring at one of the pictures of the restaurant before it reopened.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. I recognized the name—it was a small franchise set to be the rival to Chuck E Cheese's, but it was swathed in so much controversy it never caught on. I had only visited Chuck E Cheese a few times when I was young, so I wasn't sure what to expect from this place. The stupid animatronics had always given me the heebie jeebies, though.  _That_  I remembered.

"The current night guard was set to retire at the end of last week and they just put up an ad for his replacement. It's our first way in. There have been strange reports from people who walk by the place at night."

I glanced up at him, then skimmed a few more pages.

"What makes you think it's haunted? None of that sounds suspicious at all," Hart pointed out, taking the file from me to look through it himself. He pointed at one of the pictures and grinned. "Hey, Freddy Fazbear's! I went here once. Oh man, I liked Bonnie the most."

Prompted by my blank stare, he showed me the picture of a tall purple rabbit with a guitar in his hands. "Bonnie, the bunny. I like rabbits, okay?"

Hart shuffled uncomfortably when William and I stared at him a bit longer, and then William continued. "We've been keeping the franchise under surveillance for a while. We haven't really been able to get any cameras on the inside, but we watch the outside. People have seen the animatronics acting weird at night, and the whole place is off the charts creepy."

"That's hardly grounds for a haunting, isn't it?" I said, echoing Hart's sentiments. "I mean, they're old and jenky robots. Of course they're creepy and do weird shit."

"True. We don't know for sure it's haunted, but we need to find out and this is the first chance we've gotten. Some employees have gone missing, on top of everything. Always reported so many days after they were last scheduled, though. So, one of you will need to be hired into the night guard position and the other will provide back up," he finished.

"I want to be the guard," I volunteered before Hart could even open his mouth. I may have lost my composure a little bit, but I needed the position. "I'm tired of sitting around doing paper work, please let me be the guard."

"How do you know we'll get hired? Won't other people be looking for a job?" Hart asked, seemingly undisturbed by my outburst.

William pulled out a newspaper from his desk and held it out for us. "We pulled the ad from the newspapers. They're paying worse than any fast food place, too. You guys can decide among yourselves who gets to be the night watchman and who gets to sit on the sidelines. Your paycheck from Fazbear's are getting split, anyway."

Hart scoffed, staring at the ad. "You hear that, Nichole? We'll each get $60 per pay check."

"What?" I reached over and grabbed the newspaper from him, skimming until I found the ad in question. "They're paying $120 a week? What year is this?"

"Dunno, think of it as a bonus. You guys need to leave soon, though. Flight leaves in a couple hours. That file is all we have right now, though I trust your investigation will yield more results."

We thanked him for his help and took our leave. I pulled the file open one more time to look through the rest of the reports. The eatery had any number of citations for health violations, cleanliness, accidents. . .and yet it still kept coming back from the dead. I supposed most of that would have to do with the gimmick of pizza and arcades—Chuck E Cheese, Dave and Buster's—people ate that shit up.

Becoming a security guard at the place wouldn't be the hard part. I would just have to convince Hart to let me do it. He didn't seem too against the idea, but I knew he was itching to avoid doing paperwork just as much as I was.

As we walked back the way we came, a sound caught my attention. I removed my nose from the file and stared down the adjacent hallway. The familiar noise had my heart beating out of my chest and lined my throat with sandpaper. My hands balled into fists and, despite the tremors chasing each other up and down my spine, I charged down the hall with an unrelenting determination.

"Nichole, where're you going?" Hart called out to me.

It grew louder and louder as I ate the distance until I came upon a solid steel door. It had no markings, no identifiers. They weren't needed. I knew what was beyond that barrier without any labels. I had been shown this door only once, and I would never forget it.

Just like I would forever remember that particular pitch for the next thousand lifetimes.

"I'm coming for you soon, fuckers," I whispered, pressing the palm of my right hand flat against the cool surface of the door. Whenever I had a reason to come down to the basement, I always stopped by to remind them that I was there, waiting and biding my time.

One day I would kill them and take my trophies.

The xenomorphs in the lab on the other side of the door continued their caterwauling long after I joined Hart back in the main hallway. Taunting, challenging, telling me that they would be ready.


	2. Contract

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> Sorry, I promise I'm not going to bother you with an Author's Note every chapter. Just thought I'd mention, in case you haven't caught on, that this followed the first FNAF game. It, of course, mentions stuff that happens in the other game to expand the lore and stuff, but it takes place in the building in the first game. The story is kind of a mess theory-wise and head-canon-wise because I originally started writing this before the third game, I think? Or the fourth, I don't know. So it's just kind of a mess of what happened and who did what. There's probably going to be a lot of plot holes that I missed while editing, but oh well. It's just a pet project.
> 
> Anyway, that's it! Promise! Enjoy! IF you hate it, let me know, if you love it, let me know, and as always, stay beautiful.
> 
> ~ Crayola

"So what are we looking at?"

Hart looked up from the spread on the table before him. The two of us were holed up in a hotel a few blocks from Freddy's, each to our own room. I had hopped over to Hart's side so we could discuss the case before I went in. To my surprise, I hadn't needed to wheedle him down at all—he'd just given me the position as night guard.

Maybe it was because, like he said, he was still trying to get used to knowing about all this supernatural gunk.

He glanced up at me when I took the seat next to him, then shuffled the papers. "Well, it's pretty straight forward. If this is a real haunting, it's probably the five children who went missing at the first location. We were never able to find the bodies, so I guess they. . .never really got put to rest?"

I shrugged. "Your theories are as good as mine. I'm the alien girl, not the Casper girl."

"Extraterrestrials," Hart corrected me.

"Whatever," I muttered with a roll of my eyes. I went back to reading over his shoulder.

"This place is shut tighter than Fort Nox," I sighed, leaning back in my chair and dropping my papers back on the table. "There's barely anything to go off besides these newspaper clippings and citations. We're gonna have to learn it all on our own. These people hardly ever talk to officials."

A smirk tugged at Hart's lips. "Well, at least we'll be able to prove ourselves ready for more missions like these."

"Unless it's another wild goose chase and we're just looking at some really old, malfunctioning robots," I pointed out forlornly. "This could still just be a bunch of hearsay, and all we have is a murderer who is  _really_  good at hiding bodies."

He gave me a hardy pat on the back. "Don't be so cynical. How are we playing this? You gotta go meet with the manager for the tour and you'll start tonight—what should I do?"

Glaring at him, I indicated to the folder and said, "I guess read this. Probably go play detective and speak with the locals about the restaurant. We haven't been able to get a hold of the previous night guard for questioning, but there are plenty of other employees for you to hound."

"That's the spirit. Now, let's hook up these spy gadgets before I go. We gotta be able to communicate somehow."

Nodding, we pushed up from our seats at the same time and I followed him to the dresser where he was keeping our suitcase of gizmos. As he hooked up a small camera to the front of my shirt and a microphone underneath my collar, I couldn't help but feel like a real-life spy, like from the movies.

"Can you hear me?" he asked after I fit myself with an earpiece.

"Loud and clear. Do you read?"

He lifted a single finger to indicate for me to wait and fiddled with the control box, then dropped his hand. "Try now."

"Hello, is there anybody out there?" I said, a little louder.

There was a delay, but I heard my voice come through the monitor, accompanied by a live feed from the camera on my shirt. "There we go. Just use your regular voice, though. This thing is pretty sensitive," Hart said.

"Oh sure."

"Perfect."

I huffed with satisfaction and straightened out my clothes, then fiddled with my hair. It was just a tour of the facilities—since I had been guaranteed the position—so I was dressed in regular jeans and a collared shirt, more so to hide the camera and microphone. My hair was down to hide the earpiece.

Hart turned the volume down and glanced at the clock. "You better get going. I'll watch from here, then we'll have to hook it all up to your new uniform. Ready to get no sleep for the next week?"

"You know it," I muttered, grabbing my bag. There wasn't much in it, just a fake ID with my fake name and some cash. "Well, let's go catch us a ghost I guess."

*:･ﾟ✧

The building sat on a street corner near a strip mall with other, smaller restaurants situated nearby. A giant sign on top read "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza" with cartoon versions of the animatronics, plus a fox wearing an eye-patch that I hadn't seen in the pictures. Bricks made up the exterior of the building, and it was overrun with creeper vines. One corner looked like a car had slammed into it.

A family of five bustled past the automatic doors. Standing outside wasn't going to get me this stupid fake job any sooner. I followed them in and waited in line for a moment while they were seated. The family was greeted by everyone else in the building—it looked like a birthday party.

"Hello, are you here for the birthday party?"

I whirled around in surprise and the girl stepped back, eyes wide. Heat flooded my cheeks and I let my raised hand fall back to my side. "Um, sorry, you startled me."

 _"_ _Don't hit the employees,"_  Hart snickered into my ear.

She looked around—probably for back up—and then forced her smile to return. "It's fine, sorry about that. Are you here for the party?"

"No," I said, returning her smile. "I'm here about the night guard position?"

The girl's face paled and her smile faded for an instance, but her demeanor didn't change in any other noticeable ways. "Oh, yes. Let me go get my manager. Just wait here."

Her hands were shaking slightly as she left for the backstage area. My brows knit together and I leaned against the wall next to the doors, careful to stay out of the way so they wouldn't keep opening and closing. More guests piled in and I was able to get a good look at the dining hall. A single row of arcade games sat at the far wall, and it was the source of most of the screaming and 8-bit noise flooding the dining area.

There was an odd air about the place. Everything looked so run-down, like the building might collapse at any second, and it smelled of stale wood and pizza. It was nothing like Chuck E Cheese—not how I remembered it, anyway. At Chuck E Cheese there had been a playground as well as games.

This place had a handful of old arcade games, a taped-off stage draped in curtains, several rows of tables, and that was about it. I hoped that the animatronics had one hell of a show if people were willing to pay. I supposed that if you couldn't afford to rent out some room from anywhere else, then this wouldn't be that bad.

"Hello?"

Somehow, I succeeded in not flipping out when the manager approached. I put on my best smile and extended my hand. "Hello! My name is N-Nikki, I called you yesterday about the position you have available for night guard?" At the last second, I remembered the oh-so-clever fake name I had been given for this mission.

The man looked like he was ready to go home even though they'd only been open for two hours. There were a  _lot_  of screaming children, though. He took my hand and shook it. "Right. My name's Tyler Morris. Are you a certified security guard?"

"No," I replied guardedly. "I didn't know I had to be. . .?"

"You don't. I was just asking. Alright, come this way. I'll give you a tour." He sounded exhausted, but nonetheless led me through the building.

It was a pretty tiny structure. We worked through each room, but outside of the dining hall there wasn't much to see. The bathrooms had their own section, and he briefly showed me where the kitchen was, though I wasn't allowed to go inside it. The strong scent of pizza made my stomach rumble. There was a room next to the stage with a bunch of spare parts, and the other attraction was a place called "Pirate's Cove."

"Why is this closed?" I asked, pointing to the drawn curtains and the sign that read "Sorry! Out of order." It must have been where the fox with the eye patch hung out.

He stopped long enough to look where I was pointing, then nodded. "Oh yeah. He just kind of broke down. We never got around to fixing him and, well, now we're closing at the end of the year so it doesn't really make sense to get maintenance in here for him."

I tilted my head and reached for the curtain, but snatched it back when Tyler cleared his throat. "Your office is down this hall. I'll introduce you to the day guy."

We traveled down a sad and dirty hallway toward the back of the building. There was a supply closet, but Tyler informed me that there wasn't anything I'd need in there. Shitty children's' drawings decorated the hall, and trash coated the floor.

 _"_ _Yeah this place looks like a nice family joint,"_  Hart, from the peanut gallery, scoffed.

"Don't you guys have a janitor or something?" I asked after kicking a wadded-up napkin.

"No. We just clean the main areas after each party. That's about all we do now: parties. We're not open for lunch anymore," he explained.

The room he showed me was a sad-looking office. Both sides housed a large window and an open, heavy-duty door. It was about as messy as the hallway leading into it, and when I looked through the other door, it seemed like it led down an equally dilapidated hallway. A large, dark-skinned man sat in front of a pile of monitors on a swivel chair.

"This is where you're going to spend your nights until we open. This is Kerwin, our day guy. He'll take over for me from here. Come find me on the floor when you're done," Tyler said, waving at the security guard. "This is the new night guard, Nikki. Show her the ropes."

Kerwin nodded to me as Tyler headed back to the dining room. "Nice to meet you."

I lifted my hand in greeting and returned the sentiment.

"Kind of a dreary office, isn't it?" I pointed out, looking around.

More drawings decorated the back wall next to a giant poster of the three main animatronics with big letters spelling out "CELEBRATE." The corners of the office had cobwebs and every surface had a layer of dust that appeared undisturbed for years.

Nodding, Kerwin turned and motioned toward the monitors stacked on top of each other. "You get used to it. The job's not so bad, at least during the day. I don't know what it's like at night. All ya gotta do it watch these monitors."

"They're so old," I said, stepping up next to him. Upon closer inspection, they weren't even turned on.

"You use this," he said, drawing my attention to the tablet in his hands.

I took it from him, muttering an apology for misunderstanding. They couldn't afford to fix their CCTVs but they could afford a tablet.

Sure. Why not.

He'd been watching the dining area and the feed took up most of the screen. In the bottom corner, there was a display of the other feeds. With a tap of my finger, I could bring up whichever camera I wanted.

With each feed, I heard various noises, most of which were children screaming and the occasional trill from a video game.

"They're so grainy. How old are these cameras?" I asked, handing him back the device.

"As old as the building, probably, but they get the job done," he said, setting it in his lap. "However, every now and again the feed will cut out. They're correct themselves eventually."

"What about this one? It's not working." I leaned over and pointed out the one camera that was all static.

Kerwin nodded. "That's the camera for the kitchen. It broke a few months ago. The audio still works, though."

Sure enough, I could hear pots clanging and people talking. I couldn't quite make out their words, and he changed cameras before I could try to figure out what they were saying.

"What do I do if someone breaks in? That's what I'm watching for, right?"

"Um," he looked around the room and motioned to gaping holes on either side of the room. "Shut the doors using the buttons on the side and just stay safe. The cameras don't record, so if you see anything suspicious, write it down and report it in the morning."

I raised my eyebrows and clicked my tongue. "Okay. . .then."

"During the day I can escort people out, but at night you should be extra careful."

"Why? Because I'm a woman?" I snorted.

He sighed. "No, it's because it's company policy for the night guard to stay in this office at all times until six am. Maybe because they're here by themselves and aren't armed."

My cheeks burned. "Oh. Well, I can understand that."

"They gotta avoid what lawsuits they can." Even though I heard him, I had the feeling that he hadn't meant for me to.

"Is there anything else I need to know?" I asked, eager to move on with the conversation.

He shook his head. "If there's anything else different about the night shift, you'd have to ask the previous night guy, but I don't ever see him. Should ask Tyler. You know the way back to the dining hall on your own?"

I nodded and edged toward the door. "Yeah, it's pretty straight forward. Thanks for the crash course, it was nice meeting you."

"You, too," he muttered, turning back to the monitors.

 _"_ _Seems like a boring job,"_  Hart said.

"Maybe during the day," I muttered. "Probably a lot spookier at night."

 _"_ _Only crazy people talk to themselves,"_  he jibed.

I rolled my eyes and followed the hall into the dining area. I dodged around kids playing tag until I found Tyler standing by the stage, overlooking the area. He saw me approaching and moved forward to meet me. "Think you got it down?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Seems pretty easy."

Tyler made a non-committal sound and motioned for me to follow him. "Since the owner's not here today, I'm supposed to tell you that you're not to leave that room until six am each morning," he said, leading me through the portal to the backstage area.

"Kerwin mentioned that. What if I have to use the restrooms or the place catches on fire?" I asked, eyebrow quirked.

The tiredness left his eyes long enough for him to pierce me with a glare. "Go before you show up. You can't leave that office once you're in there. In case of a fire. . . I guess use your best judgment. Though there should be no reason the place catches fire."

"Alright," I said, standing at the door and looking through the room. Tyler was rummaging through a drawer in the back. The place was full of parts and even a naked robot skeleton. All those eyeless masks made my hairs stand on end.

He pulled out a gray uniform, neatly folded, and walked it over to me. "We only have small or large, and you definitely don't look like a large, so I hope a small uniform is okay."

I nodded and took the security guard uniform from him. "That's fine."

"Also, watch how much energy you use. To save money, we switch on a generator at night, but it won't last your whole shift if you're not careful."

That caught me off guard. "A generator? Why?"

My guide shrugged and rubbed his neck. "I don't know, alright? I mean, we close next month, I guess Mr. Garrett wants to milk as much money out of this place as possible, so he tries to cut the electricity bill by hooking up a generator."

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"You're preaching to the choir. Anyway, let's move on."

He led me out into the dining room. "That's pretty much the whole building, you start tonight, right? Be in your office by the time the clock hits twelve. You won't have to clock in or anything, you're getting paid under the table."

I sighed. "I'll be on time. And I'm getting paid at the end of each week, right? One hundred and twenty dollars?"

"Yeah. Every Friday."

"Why so little? Not that I care, this is just for some extra cash," I amended.

He ticked his head to the side and led me to the front door. "Just Mr. Garrett being stingy. We all took some pay cuts, and he fired several people. Anything else? I have to help with this party."

I shook my head. "No, you've been pretty clear."

"Alright, well, here's your key. Remember—don't be late. If you're late, just, I guess, don't come at all."

 _"_ _Ominous,"_  Hart muttered.

"Why?" I asked, halfway out the door and with the key in my hand. I did my best to ignore Hart's comments.

Tyler rubbed his neck and stepped back inside the building. Behind him, a child screamed and chased another around. "That's just what Mr. Garrett told me to tell you, sorry. The previous night guard left you something, by the way."

"Left what? Kerwin didn't mention anything," I pointed out.

He shrugged. "Dunno. That's just what the guy said before he left. They should be in the desk somewhere, just get it when you come in tonight."

"Okay, sure."

The automatic doors slid shut and I was left standing outside. A kid and his family swept past me and I barely had enough time to step aside before he went crashing through the automatic doors. Before they shut, I heard him shout an apology for being late. I watched the glass panes slide together again, then glanced down at the key.

_"_ _Place already seems super weird. Better get back and take a nap or something, though."_

As I passed by the front windows, I noticed a great commotion inside. I stopped long enough to peek inside the building, shielding the light by cupping my hands around my eyes. The stage was alive with the three animatronics, curtains drawn back. I couldn't hear and could only see a little bit, but they were definitely dancing and singing.

"Creepy things," I muttered before heading back toward the hotel.

 _"_ _They're just old, not creepy,"_ Hart insisted.

"You  _would_  think that," I muttered with a roll of my eyes.

He fell silent and I assumed he had turned off the gadgets. Or maybe I hurt his feelings.  _Oh well_. I took one last look back at Freddy's and shook my head. That place would be even creepier when I went back at midnight.

It was going to be a long night.


	3. In the Dark

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza reached a creepiness level of five billion when it was dark and empty. Only a few lights were on, namely the ones closest to the office and inside of it. Any other light was merely filtered through the windows, or were cast by a select few cameras. Even the shadows had shadows.

Every one of my senses was on high alert as I walked down the long hallway to my office, swathed in the security guard uniform Tyler had given me. It was a little tight around the shoulders, but it would suffice.

My pulse was off the charts and I fought to keep my breathing under control, instinctively glancing at every dark corner. The stage was quiet, and the building was old enough that every step I took echoed. The ceiling squeaked and the floor creaked as the foundation settled.

Already, my mind was on overdrive. It distorted the creaky floorboards, turned them into high-pitched whines and low hisses. The shadows took shape into serpentine-like aliens with sleek heads and long tails.

My fists clenched and unclenched.  _Remember to breathe. Just breathe,_ I reminded myself, taking deep breaths.

Eventually, the ghosts and ghouls of my past faded and I could think straight. It was just the dark, and I had to hurry to my post. I slipped down the hallway to the office.

However, all that fear and adrenaline—it brought me a strange sense of euphoria. The constant mental state that I was in danger was familiar and. . .comforting. But that wasn't really the right word, even if it was close. It was what I was used to. It reminded me that I was  _alive._

Reminded me that someone was waiting.

The light from the office chased away any remaining demons. I sat down in the chair and pulled closer to the table. In the back of my mind, I knew I was surrounded by darkness on all sides with the threat of ghosts or ghouls, but there was comfort in the fact that I could use this experience as a learning opportunity.

The monitors were off as usual, but I could hear the generator in the back, something I hadn't heard during the tour. I searched the desk for the tablet Kerwin had shown me, but it wasn't on top.

"Dammit, where is it," I muttered to myself.

_"_ _Testing, testing, one two three."_

Hart's voice was pumped directly into my eardrum and I jumped three feet off my chair, sending a few stray cups scattering to the floor.

 _"_ _You okay in there?"_  he asked.  _"Did I startle you?"_

My breath left in a noisy gust and I put a hand to my chest to settle my heart. "Devon, I swear to god I'm going to kill you when I come back in the morning."

 _"_ _Sorry,"_  he said, chuckling.  _"Anything out of the ordinary so far?"_

"No," I harrumphed. "I just got here and it's not midnight yet. . . . I'm just trying to get situated. I'm just looking for the tablet so I can watch these damn cameras."

There was a pause and I imagined Hart was doing something I couldn't see or hear.  _"Alright, I'll be on standby. You want me to talk or stay quiet?"_

"Give me a minute to figure out everything in here real quick."

He fell silent per my request and searched the room until I found the tablet in one of the desk drawers. There was a note scrawled on scrap paper sitting on top of it. I plucked it off the screen and read it aloud for my partner.

"'Battery isn't charging. Keep plugged in.' Well, great. At least this charging cable looks long enough," I sighed, hooking up the tablet.

Hart said,  _"Well that's unlucky."_

After turning the tablet on, I flicked through the cameras and the rooms I had to watch.

Stage, backstage, pirate cove, the storage closet—wait why did that need a camera? Whatever—both hallways and the corners behind my doors, the disabled kitchen camera, and then a camera in the bathroom hallway. Each oone rotated to survey the majority of their rooms, but I saw half a dozen blind spots.

"Who designed this place?" I sighed, setting the tablet down in sleep mode. I didn't see any reason to watch the cameras for the whole six hours when I was supposed to be saving energy anyway.

Everything was so loud in the building that I could hear anything going on, anyway. If I did,  _then_  I'd check the cameras.

My desk didn't have many compartments, but I decided to rifle through them anyway. There hadn't been anything besides the tablet in one of them, so I skipped to the others.

Brushing aside a cobweb, I wiggled open the only other drawer there was. I had expected pens and paper or other various office supplies, but instead there were four tapes and a recorder. I hummed quietly and lifted some of them up to the single light above my head. Each tape was marked on the side; "night one", "night two", and so on.

With them was another note. It wasn't in Kerwin's handwriting, though.

"This one says 'watch us only on each night'. What do you make of that?" I asked Devon, holding the tapes up.

For a moment he was silent, most likely trying to read through his own monitor back at the hotel. I rotated the tapes so he could see them.

Finally, he said,  _"I don't know. Play the night one tape, I guess."_

Frowning, I pulled out the tape currently in the recorder—one labeled "night five"—and popped in tape number one. The recorder whirred to life but didn't play anything. I stared at it for a while until I realized that I needed to rewind the tape to listen.

"Alright, here we go," I said, hitting the play button one more time. The clock on the table in front of me changed over to midnight.

_"_ _Hello, hello?"_

Though slightly garbled by the shoddy tech, I could understand the voice well enough. I set the recorder on the table and double-checked the cameras, carefully examining each one for a few seconds before putting the tablet aside again. All the animatronics were present and accounted for, and there was not a single living soul in there besides me.

"Can you hear it okay?"

Hart hummed in the affirmative.

 _"_ _Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact."_ The guy was nice and upbeat, if maybe stumbling on his words a little bit.

It was the previous night guard. The one we couldn't contact for questioning. I leaned back in my seat and stuck the nail of my index finger in my mouth. Hart was quiet on the other side, probably trying not to interrupt anything.

_"_ _So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week, okay? Uh, let's see, first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, it's kind of a legal thing, you know."_

I glanced at the door on each side of me, and noticed for the first time a light switch above each "close door" button. I flicked it on and the darkness receded, but there was an annoying buzz that came from the fluorescent bulbs. They flickered and refused to stay on for more than a few seconds.

When I turned the light on, the generator rumbled louder behind me. I grimaced, glad that I couldn't accidentally leave the lights on.

Next, I tried the doors. They slid shut from top to bottom—instead of side to side—with a loud sound. They were made of solid steel, and I wondered why they needed to be so heavy.

Our narrator continued while I fiddled with things.  _"Um, 'Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life.'"_

Ugh. So much cheese.

_"'_ _Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death had occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon as property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced.'"_

While the recording droned, I had been brushing a cobweb off my desk. I stopped mid-swipe and stared at the recorder, mouth slightly agape. What the fuck kind of "greeting" was that? They wouldn't take responsibility if their employees  _died_?

Now this thing had my attention. I hit the pause button and stared at the tape, bewildered. "Did you hear that, Devon?"

 _"_ _I sure did. That's some shady shit right there,"_  he said.  _"Maybe it's some sort of joke?"_

"Not a very funny joke. You think that, maybe, the previous guard. . . ?"

He fell silent, then scoffed _. "No way. . .no, he was retiring, right? He said so on the tape. You're getting paid under the table, so he probably was, too. That's probably why we can't figure out who he was, there's no actual record of him working here."_

I sighed and shook my head. "Yeah, maybe. That'll just have to be one of the things you ask when you hit the streets."

_"_ _Guess so. At the very least, if it's true, that's pretty damning evidence. Keep going."_

The recorder buzzed back to life when I reached out to hit the play button. I absently rubbed at the spot under my collar bone, where Wolf's mark was.

 _"_ _Blah blah blah now I know that might sound bad, I know, but there's really nothing to worry about,"_ the nameless man on the recording said.

Yeah, the fuck there wasn't if they needed a disclaimer like that. Why hadn't that been the first thing they told me when I'd tried to sign up for the job? Well, duh, because then I wouldn't take it.

 _"_ _Uh, the animatronics here do get a bit_ quirky _at night, but do I blame them? No."_

Quirky? Quirky  _how_? Was that why headquarters thought they were haunted?

_"_ _If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night, too. So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay."_

This guy made less and less sense as his messages went on. I paused the recorder and turned my attention to the tablet. I almost forgot to check the cameras, so I quickly flicked through the different ones to make sure everything was hunky dory. A place for everything and everything in its place—and nothing had changed.

"Alright, they get quirky at night, whatever that means. If these ghosts get angry, are you going to come save me?" I muttered, trying to make a joke. Badly.

Hart chuckled.  _"Hell no. I'll be the first person to call the Ghost Busters, though."_

"Gee, thanks." I rolled my eyes and hit the play button again.

 _"_ _So, just be aware, the characters do tend to—_ wander _a bit. Uh, they're left in some kind of free-roaming mode at night. Uh. . .something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long."_

So those things were just allowed to walk around? Why would that be a thing?

 _"_ _Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day, too, but then there was,"_ he paused for a moment, " _the Bite of '87."_

 _Why_  in the ever-living  _fuck_  would they allow the singing animatronics to roam around? At Chuck E Cheese, they just had some poor sap put on a mascot suit and walk around taking pictures and giving out free hugs. Whoever owned this place should have been sued a long time ago.

Hart commented,  _"Hey, that's in the file."_

"Shh! I'm listening!"

The recording droned on.  _"Yeah. I-It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?"_

I shuddered and paused the tape, using the time to check the cameras, as well. "Shit, that guy  _lived_  through that bite? Did it say that in the file?" I asked.

From the other end, I could hear the faint sound of shuffling papers, and then Hart's voice rang out.  _"Uh, nothing about the end result or how bad it was, just that a security guard at the second location was 'bit' by one of the animatronics during the last birthday party the day before it closed. You read these, right?"_

"I skimmed," I admitted with a shrug.

Now I was a little paranoid. If these things were allowed to roam, then that would be the perfect reason for a ghost to possess them. No point possessing immobile things. I sifted through the feeds again, but they were still all in place on stage.

"Maybe this is just an elaborate joke," I mused when they were all still on stage.

_"_ _Well, we'll have to assume it's not for now."_

Though he couldn't see it, I nodded and reached out to start the tape again.

 _"_ _Uh, now, concerning your safety. . .the only_ real _risk to you as a night watchman here, if any,"_ the narrator was quick to add that last part, _"is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours, probably won't recognize you as a person. . . ."_

Once again, I turned on the lights outside my room. Nothing there. I picked up a wad of paper and started to crumple and fold it.

The voice continued. He was no longer as upbeat as he was before.  _"They'll p—most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now, since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to. . .forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit."_

"Fucking excuse me?" I exclaimed, eyes narrowed. I slammed my finger down on the pause button so hard I thought I was going to break the machine. "This just  _has_ to be a trick, Devon, or a prank. Why would that even be a rule, let alone something that was programmed into  _children's animatronics_? What the fuck kind of game are these people playing?"

Hart was silent, then grimly said  _"Or maybe he's trying to warn you."_

I sat down, not having realized I had shot to my feet. "What do you mean?"

 _"_ _What if he's trying to tell you what's up with this place without making it seem like it?"_  he said.  _"If he just went straight out and told you how things are, then the owner probably wouldn't have ever let you hear those tapes."_

The tapes.

Of course.

"I had to rewind the tape," I muttered, hands gripping the edge of the table.

_"_ _What do you mean?"_

_"_ This first tape, before I played it, I had to rewind it. That means either someone listened to it before, or my predecessor never rewound them," I explained. "What you wanna bet it was the former?"

My partner was silent for a few minutes. I sat down while he ruminated on that and frantically woke up the tablet and swept for the stage camera. All three of them were in position still, facing forward. I checked Pirate's Cove next—the curtains were still shut.

 _"_ _So, then,"_ Hart said at last,  _"I think it's more likely they just didn't rewind when they finished recording. I can't imagine that anyone would keep those things in working condition if they knew something like this was happening."_

I sighed and tried to relax into the back of my seat. Nearly impossible with how hard the thing was.

"You're probably right," I admitted. "I'm letting this creepy place get to me."

 _"_ _Well, for right now this isn't really enough to go on. It might be a prank, could be a gross case of negligence. . .we'll play it by ear. Is there anything else on that tape?"_ Hart asked. There was a bit of feedback for a second, like he was leaning too close to his mic.

"I think so."

 _"_ _Well, just keep listening. I'm recording everything,"_  Hart assured me.

As I was told, I pressed the play button.

_"_ _Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort. . .and death. . . . Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out of the front of the mask. . .heh."_

Color drained from my face and the ball of paper crumpled under my fingers. Was this for real? No one that listened to these tapes before me would have allowed me to hear them.

Though, I supposed they probably didn't  _want_  their employees dying one right after the other. Without some kind of warning, security would be dropping like flies and the place would be swarming with federal agents so fast their heads would spin.

As far as I knew, the guard before me had worked at the establishment for years before a couple of days ago. They hadn't needed to warn anyone before.

Hart let out a shaky breath into his mic.  _"Wow. That's some dark shit right there."_

"Shhh," I demanded.

 _"_ _Y-Yeah. . .they don't tell you these things when you sign up."_  For just a second his upbeat demeanor changed to something solemn.

I flicked through the cameras once more and checked my doors—everything was okay. As okay as it could be with the threat of death looming over me.

He was still talking, and I wondered how long the recording was.  _"But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow."_  His pleasant tone was back. Either this guy was crazy, in denial, or had a stellar poker face.

_"_ _Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night."_

Hart scoffed.  _"Well isn't he Mr. Bright Side?"_

I remained silent, however, lost in thought. This couldn't have been a prank, not if headquarters thought that there was a threat real enough to send us to investigate. I left the tablet on stage's camera feed for a couple minutes, staring at the robots.

They didn't move once. Maybe this really was nothing.

_"_ _Nichole? You okay?"_

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright."

_"_ _Yeah, um, I don't know if the owner or manager would have left those for you to listen to if it had something like. . .like that on it."_

Sighing, I rubbed my face. "Yup, I don't think they would have, either."

Free-roaming robots—with homicidal tendencies. These were either some really fucked up animatronics or incredibly vengeful spirits. I leaned my elbows on the desk, my face in my hands. Was any of this even real? The establishment could have something stupid like this drawn out to initiate new employees.

 _"_ _What do you want to do?"_ Hart asked.

"What else can I do? I'm not supposed to leave, and we came here to investigate. I'm beginning to think they don't want me to leave so the animatronics don't get me," I mused.

Hart said,  _"You think they might know, then?"_

"They might. Or, at least, they might have an idea about what's going on. Either way, I won't leave until six. Not taking the chance."

_"_ _Alright, if you're sure."_

I wasn't.

"I'll hold out for the night and we'll see what we can dig up during the day. I mean, so long as I don't run out of power, I should be okay. I have these heavy doors with me," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

There was a brief pause, and then he spoke again.  _"Sure thing. I'll be right here if you get scared."_

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, Devon."


	4. Paranoid

I was beginning to overheat in the stuffy room with no air conditioning on. After a little bit of searching through the small office, I managed to find a fan underneath some papers and I set it on the desk. If anything, I figured it wouldn't take too much power, and it would be better than dying of a heat stroke. It sat, rotating slowly and blasting me with stale air. I was growing thirsty, though, and wished I had brought some water or a soda.

That, however, was a double-edged sword. I was stuck in there for six hours, so if I got my drink on too hard, then I might end up needing to use the bathroom. Which was all the way down the hall. Outside my safety doors.

If it was going to be this hot in the office the entire time, it might just be worth trying to hold it in. A cold ice drink would have done me some good right about then.

_"_ _How are things going?"_ Hart asked. He'd been silent for so long, I hadn't been expecting to hear his voice.

"Fine. Did you go somewhere?" I asked, trying to hide the fact that he'd startled me.

_"_ _I was checking on some of the files, compiling a list of witnesses I could speak to. Did I miss anything while I was gone?"_

I sighed and tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling A bug skittered in a hole in the corner. "No. These things haven't moved once. I'm beginning to think we were played for fools."

For the umpteenth time in the past two hours, I put the tablet to sleep and ran my hands over my head. With no need to hide an earpiece, I had my hair drawn back in a braid. Sometimes I thought about chopping all my hair off, but I didn't think I'd look good with a butch cut, and I would feel so. . .naked without it.

_Fuck. Killer robots. Focus._

Hart commented,  _"That's the best scenario, right? A boring night?"_

The lights in the hallways flickered to life when I touched the switch. From where I sat, I couldn't see very well out of the window to my left, but I could see directly into the hall through the door. On the right, I could see perfectly out of my window, but not much through the door. The only way to check the back corners was with the cameras.

"I suppose so. Would be kind of disappointing if we went back to headquarters with nothing but some weird business practices and malfunctioning equipment, though," I muttered in reply to Hart, flattening out the piece of paper I'd been worrying all night.

Hart said,  _"Healthier for you, though."_

"Yeah, I guess," I chuckled.

_"_ _Hey, if it gets too hairy, I can always take over. They won't know you're not the one sitting in there at night if I leave right at six, before anyone arrives,"_ he offered after a few minutes.

It was a kind offer, one I might have considered, but I shook my head all the same. "No, I can see this through."

_"_ _Alright, whatever you want. Offer still stands whenever you need it."_

"Thanks," I said.

Silence—save for the drone of the fan and rumbling of the generator—hung over me like a cloud. I reached forward to pluck the tablet off the desk and checked the camera feeds. Those stupid things hadn't moved since I'd arrived, but the first place I checked was always the stage.

One, two. . .wait—where was the rabbit?

_"_ _Holy shit, Bonnie's on the move,"_  Hart breathed.

"Shit. When did he—" I performed a rapid scan of all the cameras until I circled around to the camera back stage.

My breath caught in my throat and I nearly dropped the tablet, but my fingers tightened around it instead. Bonnie was there, standing just inside the door of the back stage area.

Staring into the camera.

Its entire front was shrouded in darkness, but its glass eyes shone dully from the light of the camera. The thing wasn't moving, just staring. Did it know it was being watched?

Ridiculous. I dismissed the thought as quick as it came and stared straight back at the rabbit.

"Where's his guitar?" I asked.

When on the stage, he always had it in hand, but now it was missing. Had it set it down somewhere when it decided to roam? No, that was also a ridiculous notion.

_"_ _Maybe it fell off when he moved,"_ Hart offered after a brief pause.

"Yeah, maybe. It's fucking weird."

It wasn't moving, and I found that to be the most bizarre. The buzz of the camera as it panned was all the noise I could hear, and I wondered why it would just stand there. Wasn't it supposed to wander? Wouldn't it move about the room?

After a second glance, I spotted something in the room with him—a naked endoskeleton. It was sitting there on the table, slumped over. I pointed at it and leaned forward. "You see that?"

_"_ _Not very well. . .the silver thing on the table?"_

"Yeah."

_"_ _What about it?"_

I leaned back and smiled. "These things are supposed to be programmed to put empty suits on bare skeletons, right? So, if it grabs that or finds a suit to stuff it into, we'll know if there's any truth to this. If not, well, maybe tonight won't be so bad."

Hart took a moment to think it over.  _"You're right. Yeah, let's see what he does. Though, if they're haunted and only killing people, he'll ignore the endoskeleton anyway."_

"I find your practicality tiresome," I huffed.

Though I knew it was going to drain the battery on the generator a little faster, I kept the tablet on and watched that room exclusively for a few minutes. Bonnie didn't do a single thing the entire time I was watching. He just stood, facing the camera with his maw slightly agape.

Then, as Kerwin warned me it would, the feed cut to static.

"Ah fuck," I hissed, shaking the tablet as if it would help. There was nothing I could do about it, and all the other cameras were the same, so I used the time to double check the doors.

Though, I wasn't sure how that thing was going to make it all the way down to my office in thirty seconds. It made me feel better to make sure they were clear. And, sure enough, the lights lit up nothing but empty hallways.

_"_ _What happened?"_  Hart asked.

I tapped my foot on the ground and tugged on my braid. "The feed cut out, it should be back any second."

The image crackled with static, and then finally the camera feed to backstage returned.

Empty.

But the endoskeleton and spare parts remained untouched.

I leaned back in my chair, hand on my head, and laughed. It was a humorless sound that felt foreign even from my own mouth.

_"_ _What? I can't see the image very well,_ " Hart complained.

"It didn't do anything!" I barked. "It left the room. The endoskeleton is still there, perfectly fine and without a suit."

How could I have fallen for such a stupid joke? Sure, there was probably something going on at this place—like a really shitty owner, maybe—but animatronics  _programmed_  to shove people and robot parts into empty mascot suits? What the fuck? The darkness and sheer creepy factor from the animatronics out there had me paranoid.

_"_ _Don't celebrate just yet. Remember, he might just be after humans. Where did he go, anyway?"_

I bit my tongue to keep from saying unsavory things about my partner's habit of being a buzz kill.

I checked the stage but the rabbit wasn't there, so I checked the dining hall. That was where I found him, standing in the center of the room. He was facing the camera agaim, but wasn't really looking at it like he had been backstage.

Again, he wasn't moving.

"Why doesn't he move?" I asked myself more than Hart.

_"_ _Well,"_  said Hart,  _"maybe it's because they used to move around during the day? So, they would probably move into a room and stand still for a while so parents could get pictures and kids could hug him and stuff."_

For a moment I was silent, and then I chuckled. "Did you ever get your picture taken with Bonnie?"

He didn't reply right away and it just made me grin bigger.

_"_ _Not with_ this _Bonnie,"_ he admitted defensively. _"They had different animatronics when I went. . .it was at the different location, too. They had a lot more characters at that time, but I guess they scrapped them at some point."_

"How were they different?"

_"_ _He was a lot less. . .creepy. Had rosy cheeks and was just. . .cuter. I'll dig up a picture to show you when you get back."_

I rolled my eyes. "Don't strain yourself."

Quietness settled again and I flicked through the other cameras, but Bonnie seemed content to stay in the dining room for a while. I put the tablet to sleep and only checked every few minutes for changes. At around three-fifteen, he moved backstage again, his dead eyes fixated on the camera.

Hart broke the silence first.  _"You know, seeing him like this. . .I don't know if I like Bonnie anymore. I mean. . .look at him."_

"I know what you mean," I sighed. His fur was peeling and he was covered in stains. I felt like I needed a shower just after looking at him. Not to mention those soulless eyes and big gaping maw.

No one else moved off from the stage, either. Bonnie moved back and forth from the dining room to the back for an hour, and I wondered if it was because he kept coming to check out the endoskeleton. The strangest part was  _how_  he moved, though.

"I don't understand," I muttered, staring at Bonnie as he stood backstage once more.

_"_ _What?"_ Hart yawned.

"He never moves in a way I can catch him in the act. When the camera's on him, I mean. He just stands and by the next time I check the feed, he's in a different spot."

My partner considered that, then grunted.  _"Probably just a coincidence."_

"Maybe."

After another thirty minutes, I realized I hadn't checked the stage in a while. I screen to pull up the feed and found the two sitting there, waiting as they always—

There was only one left standing.

_No! Where's the fat chicken?_

"God dammit!" I hissed, flicking the monitors on and off.

_"_ _Chica's missing? Better find her."_

I ground my teeth together and snarled at him, "Shut  _up_ , Devon!"

The generator somewhere at the back of the building roared to life as I shut the doors on both sides of me at the same time while I flicked through the tablet's screens. I scanned each one, looking for the stupid chicken until I finally spotted the familiar bib in the upper corner of the bathroom camera.

"There!" I almost shouted, holding the tablet up over my head in victory.

Its eyes were barely visible just under the frame of the tablet. Yellow letters on its bib spelled out "Let's eat" with no less than three exclamation marks. Like Bonnie was missing its guitar, Chica was missing its cupcake—the same kind that sat atop one of the monitors, always staring at me.

_"_ _Damn she's just hiding up there, isn't she?"_

My eyes narrowed. " _She_? This monstrosity is a girl?"

_"_ _Her name's Chica?"_ He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sighing, I opened the doors back up after tracking Bonnie back into the dining hall and put a hand on my head.

"Yeah and the rabbit's name is Bonnie. That's a pretty girly name, too, but you said it's a he or something," I pointed out. "And, they're robots. They're not anything!"

Whatever Hart said next, I ignored it. Blood was roaring in my ears and my heart was threatening to jump straight out of my chest. I kept my hand over my eyes for a moment, trying to catch my breath. These were just some roaming robots. What was I getting worked up over?

The dark was playing tricks on my mind. I swallowed the lump in my throat and went over the breathing exercises my therapist had taught me years ago. It had been a long time since I'd needed to use them to calm myself down, and I found a new hatred for these robots—making me feel this kind of anxiety after all these years.

_"_ _Nichole? Nichole?"_

Hart's voice brought me back and I counted slowly to ten before I answered. "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry. I just. . .got a little worked up."

_"_ _Hey no worries. You only got an hour left. Watch the cameras."_

Right. The mission.

I took two more deep breaths, then checked the cameras where I last saw the two animatronics.

Chica was still by the bathrooms, chilling, but Bonnie was on the loose. Despite my erratic pulse, I calmly flicked through the different screens until I spotted him.

At the end of my hallway.

Though it was hard to tell because it was so dark, I could make out the bulky silhouette of Bonnie the Bunny at the end of the west hallway, looking down my direction.

"Devon. . . ."

_"_ _I see him, barely. Close the door?"_ he suggested.

Outside, the generator had quieted to a purr, but it was still running louder than it had been at the start of my shift. I figured it wouldn't hurt to close it for a little while, but I would have to watch my usage a little more closely. My eyes lingered on the monitor while I reached out to close the door, and the sound of it shutting made me tremble.

I turned the display off, but it didn't do anything to quiet the generator outside. "Why am I hiding from an animatronic meant to entertain children?" I asked quietly.

_"_ _Because it might be possessed by an evil spirit?"_ Hart pointed out.

"It was a rhetorical question."

_"_ _Okay, where's Chica?"_

Part of me wasn't ready to start checking the cameras again, but I knew I had to. I pulled up the bathrooms display, but she wasn't there.

When I found her, my fingers trembling, I stood up so fast that my swivel chair skidded across the floor and slammed into the wall behind me. Without hesitating, I reached out and forced the other door shut.

"Jesus she's right on top of me!" I spat.

The feed from the east hall was nothing but animatronic chicken. Loose wires hung down from a light fixture right in front of the screen, obscuring some of the picture. She was just out of range of what I could see in my window when I turned on the light. Her beak hung open, revealing the teeth from the endoskeleton. She was right in front of the camera, but her eyes were averted—

—towards the tiny office serving as my cage.

Next to her, on the wall, were three posters. The first one was of Chika with the words "Eating Time". The second was Freddy with "Fun Time" on it, and the third was Bonnie with the words "Party Time." Everything else down the hall was obscured in darkness.

They were flanking me.

Like they were coming up with a  _strategy_.

As if he could hear my rapid breathing, Hart was instantly talking in my ear.  _"Calm down, don't panic. She's still in the hallway, not yet by your doors. She'll probably path back toward the dining hall in a little bit. Just keep your doors closed until then."_ He was trying to be the rational one, but I didn't miss the way his voice shook.

I lifted my hands by my head and closed my eyes. The generator outside was snarling as if it was going to overheat, but I didn't care. Those doors weren't coming up until they went back the way they came.

"Why would they come down this way?" I hissed through clenched teeth. "There wouldn't be children down here."

Hart was silent for a moment, then inhaled sharply. In the background I could hear him shuffling papers around before he spoke again.  _"Ah—here it is. At the second restaurant, they fitted the robots with, uh, some sort of technology. To, uh, d-detect predators."_

" _Sexual_  predators? Like pedophiles or something?"

_"_ _Yeah, exactly. They probably patrolled around the whole place, keeping an eye out for anyone who could be a danger to the children. You know, because of the, uh, first location."_

I nodded. "Where the children were taken and killed."

_"_ _Exactly."_

After I pulled the chair back into position, I sat down and closed my eyes. There was a reason for all of this so far. I was letting my surroundings wind me up, letting the darkness around me take control and twist my emotions into panic. I wasn't about to open my doors until I was absolutely sure I wasn't in danger, but at least everything so far could be explained away with logic.

_"_ _I can hear the generator in your mic."_

One at a time, I checked the cameras where I last saw the robots. Chica was still in the hallway, bathed in the light there. Bonnie was still at the end of his hall, so I decided he was the least likely to be any real threat for the time being. I opened the door on my left and tried not to stare into the darkness too long, then checked the light on my right. Chica was still out of my line of sight.

All I'd have to do was check the lights in the east hall to make sure Bonnie wasn't on my front step. There was just a little bit of time left and I was certain I could make it until six am. I assumed that the robots' internal clocks forced them back onto the stage.

_"_ _Has Freddy moved?"_

When I checked the stage camera, the bear was still in his place. I sighed and leaned back. "Thanks. I almost forgot about him."

_"_ _You doin' alright?"_

I chuckled without humor. "I'm about as alright as I can be."

We were silent for a while as I continued to check the cameras. Bonnie remained in his spot at the end of the hallway, so I kept that door open. I always turned on the light to make sure he wasn't there before consulting the display, just to be safe.

At a quarter till six, Chica moved to the back of the hall, right behind my doors. A poster with rules was behind her, and I could barely make them out. I focused on the words so I didn't have to focus on the fact that Chica's eyes were just barely looking up at the camera, like they were trying to look without being caught.

"Don't run."

"Don't yell."

"Don't scream."

Obviously these rules weren't heavily enforced if the party earlier had been any indicator. That was all those kids had done when I was in for my tour. Usually all at the same time. Maybe those were "guidelines" more than rules.

There were more written down underneath those, more ominous than the first three.

"Don't poop on the floor."

What? If they needed that to be a rule, then obviously they had a major problem with it at some point. Ugh. Children.

"Stay close to mom."

"Don't touch Freddy."

That seemed straight forward enough, but they failed to mention the other animatronics. Was Freddy more fickle than the others?

"Why does Chica's beak have teeth? She's a fucking bird," I snorted, glaring at her through my tablet, though she couldn't see me.

Hart chuckled.  _"Chickens have teeth, you know."_

"What? No, I'm pretty sure they don't. Geese have teeth, not chickens. That's what I heard," I retorted.

_"_ _Really? I thought it was chickens."_

I rolled my eyes and said, "We'll figure it out when I get back to the hotel. Right now, I'm trying to keep this chicken from getting into my office."

_"_ _She's not really trying that hard."_

"Yeah, well, I don't want to take that risk."

Another flick of the light. Nothing outside the left door. I checked all of the cameras, and it seemed that it was just Bonnie and Chica. Freddy hadn't moved a single joint, and I knew the pirate fox wasn't working, but I still glanced at his camera every now and again.

A loud beeping made me cry out in surprise, but after some frantic searching, I realized it was the clock on my desk, alerting me that my shift was over. The red letters flashed and I picked the thing up, turning it over in my hands until I found the alarm-off button. I let go of the breath I was holding and set the clock back down, my hands on my head.

_"_ _Well, first night bites the dust. We did it."_

I snorted out a laugh. "'We'? You didn't  _do_  anything, I was the one in here trying to keep track of robots that may or may not want to kill me."

_"_ _Hey, I was pretty good moral support, right?"_

Even though it was six, I didn't immediately open my doors until I checked the stage camera and made sure all of the animatronics were accounted for. Only then did I shut everything down, open the doors, and dare to step outside of the office.

"Yeah, I guess you were. Should I bring the rest of these tapes back so we can listen to them?"

_"_ _Nah, leave 'em. We don't want you to get in trouble. Head on back."_

First, I poked my head outside the door. When the coast was clear, I practically jogged down the hallway, eager to escape the dark restaurant. I kept my eyes on the path ahead of me, not once sparing a glance in the direction of the stage. All I wanted was to be out in the open and put as much distance between me and Freddy's.

At least, until I had to go in again tomorrow night.


	5. Black Past

My arms were filled with lead, making it difficult for me to lift one to knock on Hart's door. I managed somehow, though, and rapped my knuckles against the wood a couple times.

"Hart, open up," I called.

He answered my beckon seconds later, stepping aside so I could stagger in.

"I bought some donuts for us while you were on your way here. They're on the table," he said, locking up behind me.

The sound I made was barely a word. I tore one side of the box trying to force it open and shoved the chocolate-covered pastry in my mouth, barely tasting it. Freddy's smelled perpetually of pizza and bad decisions, and I hadn't realized how hungry I was until my partner had mentioned food. He had a case of water on the floor and I ripped one of the bottles out, chugging it down.

He walked up next to me and, with a little bit more control, picked up a donut and bit into it. "You still keyed up?"

"That place gives me the fucking creeps." I was still trembling, but not all from fear. Most of it was exhilaration—adrenaline pumping through my veins, constant threat of danger. . . . I hadn't felt this alive in years.

I hadn't felt this close to the person Wolf thought I was. The one who earned the mark under my collarbone. Where had she been hiding?

Behind heaps of paperwork, that's where.

Domestic life hadn't treated me kindly. I had been looking for something like this, something to get my blood pumping. Now that the initial shock had died down, I was eager to go back that night. I was eager to see what other things those robots could throw at me. Or ghosts—whatever. I wasn't sure if they were really haunted, or actually homicidal, but I was ready to find out.

And I was going to be ready to face them when the time came.

"The restaurant opens in two hours for a party, I'm going to go see if I can't find an employee who will talk to me about the former guard," Hart said, picking up another donut.

Every muscle in my body was electrified. I pushed away from the table and headed toward the door. I had to leave, I had to expend this energy before I burst. I finished off my first bottle of water and then grabbed another before heading for my room to change.

"Where are you going?" Hart asked.

"For a jog."

*:･ﾟ✧

The limp was something I had gotten used to. I could hide it while walking fairly well, but when I jogged it became cumbersome. Every step was uneven and ruined my gait.

It wasn't that it hurt—well, not at first. My left leg had just been damaged so badly that it wouldn't heal back into the proper shape. With three surgeries in total done, my pace wasn't bad but the longer I exercised, the more pronounced the limp was.

Crisp air bit at my cheeks. The city was still sleeping and the sun had not yet risen despite the time, making it seem even earlier in the morning than it was. My breath curled in front of me with each exhale, disappearing an instant later.

An hour into my jog, I felt so much better. The tremors were gone and my head felt clearer as the adrenaline ebbed, chased away by the cold morning air. On my way back to the hotel, the first snowflakes of winter—for this area, at least: In Colorado it had snowed weeks ago and back in Washington it had snowed before we left—fluttered to the ground.

I stopped at the light, jogging in place while I waited for the crosswalk signal. Traffic had started to pick up with the morning commute, so I didn't get to flit across the road like I had when I started. The hotel was right across the street, and Freddy's was a few blocks away.

Its sign stood out above the shorter restaurants and other shops, but was too far to read.

The red hand changed to the white walking man and I limped across, finally slowing down as I reached the front doors. I stopped by a trashcan to finish the water bottle and toss the plastic container away before heading for the elevator.

Being outside gave me time to think. Everything from my first shift seemed so trivial. Everything had an explanation: the owner was too cheap to hire a mechanic to fix the machines when they were so close to closing, so he just set them to free roam at night since they weren't allowed to do so during the day; they came down my hallways because they were programmed to patrol for predators; they were probably  _not_  programmed to shove things inside suits.

All of it was probably some elaborate prank and I had fallen for it. Hart, too. In fact, the whole bureau thought there was something to this. If the second night didn't give us some substantial evidence that there were nefarious deeds being done, then I was going to have to have a talk with the higher-ups.

I met Hart in the hallway and he waved at me. "Enjoy your run?"

"As much as one can enjoy running. You going out to interview civilians?" I asked, dragging the back of my hand across my forehead.

"Yeah. Did you want me to wear the wire?"

"Nah. I'm sure you'll write down everything. I gotta shower and I want to go through all of the footage from last night, see if we missed anything. You left the door between our rooms unlocked, right? So I can get in?"

He nodded. "Yup. I'll be back in a few hours. I'll bring some Chinese food, and then we can hit the sack so we can get some sleep before round two."

"Chinese?"

Hart grinned. "Wouldn't be a stake-out if we didn't get Chinese take-out."

I rolled my eyes and slapped his shoulder. "Alright whatever you say. Hit the road, Jack. Call me if you need anything or learn something important."

"I will, I will. See ya soon."

His back receded down the hall and I watched for a moment before pulling my keycard out from its hiding place in my sports bra. It took two tries, but I unlocked my room and headed straight for the shower to wash off the fear-sweat from the night before.

*:･ﾟ✧

Something shook my shoulder and I jolted upright, looking around with my fists up and ready to fight. Hart stepped away from me, hands raised and a lopsided grin on his face.

"Woah there, warrior princess. Just thought I'd wake Sleeping Beauty from her nap," he teased.

I hastily wiped some drool from the corner of my mouth and tried to gain my bearings. I was in Hart's room, sitting at the table with the footage from that morning. It was paused at a point where the camera was behind the left door, staring at a poster of Freddy Fazbear's dumb head. I straightened up and leaned back to stretch.

"What time is it?" I yawned.

"Noon. I brought take-out like I said." Hart lifted a plastic bag so I could see. "Let's eat and I'll go over everything I learned today."

Nodding, I closed up the laptop and cleared away the surveillance gear to make room for the food. Hart took a seat across from me and started to serve us up.

"Find anyone to talk?" I asked.

He set out the little paper boxes and a pile of forks. There were chopsticks included, but I hadn't ever bothered to learn how to use the things, so I picked up a fork.

"Mostly just people around town who have visited. I tried for an hour to talk with the employees, but only one would speak with me," he recounted.

"Who?" I popped open a box of orange chicken and pushed some onto a plate, then served myself some sticky rice.

"One of the hostesses. Name of, uh. . . ," he flipped through his notebook. "Carly Pratt."

I gave him the chance to pick out his own meal, taking the time to eat a few bites. I grabbed a can of soda and nodded to his notebook. "So, what have we got?"

"Well, we still don't have a name for this guard. I'm sure if we dig far enough into the restaurant's past we might be able to find out. Apparently, he's been with the company since the beginning, or early in the beginning," he said between bites of sesame chicken.

It felt right, eating chicken after that first night.

"Yeah? What did he do?"

Hart flipped through his notebook and shrugged. "Various things, I guess. Which is weird, I mean. . .he mostly trained new employees. I think he was like. . .their legal department? Then things went to shit and he picked up the night guard shift when this location opened."

"Why would he do that?"

He shrugged again and took a moment to eat some food. "No idea. But between then and now, he was moved back and forth between a ton of stores. New guards always came and went, leaving him to take over until a new person could be found."

"Really? What about the other guards, then?"

"We have absolutely nothing to show for those. No records, no names—nada. We don't know who these guards were or where they went. My bet is they quit after night one, or those that stuck around uh. . . ."

"Met untimely ends and haven't been reported missing yet?"

Mouth full of rice, Hart just nodded. He swallowed and said, "I'll check for any missing persons reports later."

I leaned forward and bobbed my fork in his direction. "Okay. For now, put a pin in it. Did you find out anything else?"

"Not a damn thing. They won't talk to me. So, I hit the library and went through some old newspapers, hoping to learn something that way. But, all I could find were the clippings that we already have on file," he said, shoveling rice into his mouth afterwards.

After swallowing my latest bite, I pulled the folder closer to me and rummaged through it until I found the clippings. "Well let's read through them. Maybe something will stand out."

"You mean now that we're first-hand witnesses to the shit going on?"

All I could do was nod absently. I sifted through the first two newspaper articles, stating that the suspect involved in the disappearing kids' case had been caught and convicted thanks to the cameras, but all five bodies were never found.

"What do you think he did with them?" I asked.

Hart spoke around a mouthful of chicken, giving me a strange look. "Who did what with what now?"

I held up the two articles. "The guy, what did he do with the bodies?"

He shrugged. "They were never found, right? Maybe he burned them or buried them under the foundation or something. Or ate them."

"That's fucking disgusting, Devon."

"Sorry," he said, holding up his hands defensively. "It happens sometimes, alright? I'm just coming up with ideas."

For another few seconds I held my glare against him, then sighed and read through the other clippings. There were four in total, but the last one was recent, from the beginning of the year. It was mainly about the store closing, and no one wanting to be associated with it.

Not that I blamed them.

The third story, though. . . .

"Hey, listen to this." I waited for Hart to finish his bite, then leaned toward him and read off the old newsprint. The title read "Local pizzeria threatened with shutdown for sanitation."

I recited, "'Local pizzeria, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, has been threatened again with shutdown by the health department over reports of foul odor coming from the much-loved animal mascots. Police were contacted when parents reportedly noticed what appeared to be blood and mucus around the eyes and mouth of the mascots. One parent alikened them to reanimated carcasses.'"

Hart took the paper from me and read it over himself, then his eyes went wide as he made the same connection I did. He set down all of his food and grabbed the other articles, skimming through them.

"Is there a back room in that building?" he finally asked after a few minutes of taking in what they had to offer.

I shook my head. "No, just the backstage area, but that's really it."

"Well it says here, at the first location, the kids were lured into a back room. And then here—the complaints about the animatronics. Blood and mucus oozing from the mouth and eyes. . .what was it the guy on the recording said?"

My eyes widened and I nodded. "That, um, the only thing that would see the light of day would be your eyes and teeth if you were shoved into a suit."

He leaned back and took a deep breath. "At the location I went to, they weren't using the animatronics you were dealing with over there. They were these new, shiny ones, plus two others, um, I think, a chubby kid with balloons in the game area and a puppet that watched over the prize counter. Oh, no three others. Um, a broken pink fox we were allowed to take apart and put together. Like a puzzle."

"An animatronic that was a puzzle?"

"I guess." He shrugged.

"Okay," I said, spreading out some more reports and pictures. "So, what happened to the old animatronics, the ones we're dealing with now?"

Rubbing his forehead, he motioned toward the folder. "I don't know. It might be in there."

I nodded and split the pile of sheets in half, handing one stack to him and keeping the other in front of me. "Alright let's dig, then."

Though Hart groaned, he still took his pile and started filtering through. I did the same, and we fell into silence for a time, broken only by the sounds of our eating. At one point, Hart paused to show me pictures of the animatronics from the second location. They certainly looked less creepy—shiny, rosy cheeks with big, glossy eyes.

"Wonder why they scrapped them."

He shrugged. "Probably because one of them bit the security detail."

"Which one?"

"Dunno. It really could have been any of them. Though I think this fox is the best candidate," he said, tossing me a picture of a horrific mess of machinery. It had so many teeth, and they looked so sharp

"Jesus, yeah, I'd blame that thing too if I saw it." I gave him back the picture and rubbed my face. "But there's still nothing on why they weren't using the old animatronics?"

"Guess I'll have to ask the owner. He was in some sort of meeting today, but I'll try again later. Finish up, you should try to get some sleep before you go in tonight. You sure you even want to go through that again?"

It was only two in the afternoon, but if I was going to be nocturnal for the next few days, I knew I would have reset my sleep schedule.

"I'm sure. We don't have any solid proof that these things are haunted. I mean, we're like, what? Seventy percent sure? I want to be at least ninety percent sure before we call in to headquarters to bring in a team."

"What if you get hurt?" He followed me to the trashcan where we dumped our empty containers. "That's not something we want."

"Your concern is touching," I said, shooting him a half smile.

He smirked and walked me to the doors separating our rooms. "Hey, I just don't want to have to watch you get shoved into a suit, that's all."

Rolling my eyes, I stood out in the hallway. "I won't be."

"What time you gonna be up?"

"If I can fall asleep, I want to be up by eleven. You sure it's okay if we even go to sleep?"

Hart rested against his doorframe. "I might go out later and see if I can't speak to the owner, or at least catch him when he's closing up. I'll put in a request for missing person cases in the area, too. You, though, need to sleep so you can be alert. Doesn't matter if I'm alert, I'm safe in my room."

"You sure know how to make a girl feel good," I snorted, shutting my door on him.

I could still hear him through the wood. "I'm just kidding! I'll definitely come to your rescue if they try to murdalize you. I'm like, five minutes away if I run."

"Whatever you say. Don't let me sleep past eleven!"

His door clicked shut and I huffed, shaking my head, before turning and heading toward my bed. I stripped as I went, tossing my clothes in the general direction of my suitcase. My work uniform was draped over the single chair in the room, ready for quick access. I stopped by the bathroom to brush my teeth, then crawled into bed.

When I fell asleep, my usual nightmares—filled with black demons and claws—were replaced by vicious chickens with sharp fangs.


	6. Claustrophobic

I fumbled with the single key, carefully unlocking the door. The time was quarter to midnight—plenty of time to slip inside and race to that tiny office, my cage and my haven.

In my haste, I almost forgot to lock up once I was inside. I took a fleeting glance at the stage, and the animatronics were up there like always. Staring, slack-jawed, with their fake instruments in their hands.

Why did they wait until midnight to become active? Was it a ghost thing, or an internal clock thing?

 _"_ _You made it in okay,"_  Hart observed.

My mouth opened so I could respond, but I immediately shut it. I didn't want to make any unnecessary sounds and wake the machines up before I was safe inside the office.

_"_ _Nichole? Can you hear me?"_

He wasn't going to shut up if I didn't respond, so I lifted my hand into my spy camera's sight to give him a thumb's up. Meanwhile, I continued my brisk pace down the hallway. My staccato steps echoed back at me, thunderous in the dark and mostly empty space.

Hart seemed to catch on and didn't say anything until I was seated in my office. The drone of the generator out back was soothing white noise.

"Alright, I'm in."

_"_ _I gotta hand it to ya, Nichole. I probably would have been sprinting down that hall, not just walking fast. You got nerves of steel."_

Chuckling, I shook my head. "I learned how to harness my fear a long time ago."

_"_ _Yeah but you gotta be a little scared?"_

I settled in at my desk, pulling out the tablet and plugging it in to the only outlet. The one other thing plugged in was my clock. It read eight minutes until go-time.

To Hart I said, "Of course I'm still scared. I'd be crazy not to be, but giving into it won't get me anywhere."

_"_ _That's very true."_

While Hart set up his station, I rummaged through the drawers until I found the tapes and the recorder again. I popped out "Night One" and put in "Night Two". Once again, I had to rewind the tape, but it seemed like it was going to be a shorter message than the last.

"Start it now or wait until midnight?"

_"_ _Go ahead and play it now. You don't want it distracting you, right?"_

Made sense to me. I set the device on the desk and my finger hovered over the play button. For a moment I let it sit there in the air, but eventually I pushed the button and leaned back.

_"_ _Uhh, Hello? Hello? Uh, well, if you're hearing this and you made it to day two, uh, congrats! I-I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and his friends tend to become more active as the week progresses. Uhh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk just to make sure everyone's in their proper place. You know. . . ."_

The messages certainly didn't sound scripted. He stumbled on a lot of what he said, pausing and thinking between sentences.

It wasn't quite midnight yet, but I still felt inclined to do as he suggested. I powered up the tablet and brought up the stage. They were standing there, looking out over the dining hall.

_"_ _Uh, interestingly enough, Freddy himself doesn't come off stage very often. I heard he becomes a lot more active in the dark though, so, hey, I guess that's one more reason not to run out of power, right?"_

I listened for the generator—purring like a kitten. So far so good.

It was already beginning to heat up in the room, so I turned on the fan I'd found the night before. The generator didn't seem to mind, so I returned my attention to the tape.

 _"_ _I-I also want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights. There are blind spots in your camera views, and those blind spots happen to be right outside of your doors. So if—if you can't find something, or someone, on your cameras, be sure to check the door lights. Uh, you might only have a few seconds to react. Uh, not that you would be in any danger, of course. I'm not implying that."_ He added it a little too hastily and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm pretty sure that's  _exactly_  what he's implying."

_"_ _Me too."_

The voice continued.  _"Also, check on the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time. The character in there seems unique in that he becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like being watched. I don't know. Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control! Uh, talk to you soon."_

I shut off the machine when it buzzed and tossed it back into its drawer. "Well, that was loads tamer than the last message."

_"_ _He did say he didn't want to talk too long. Cuz of the robots."_

"Right."

That simple reminder was enough for me to switch on the feeds, but I remembered that the time wasn't quite midnight yet. I wasted time checking the door and their lights to make sure they still worked. The last thing I needed was technical difficulties at any time during the night.

 _"_ _Wait, did he mention Foxy?"_  Hart asked after a few minutes, as if it just struck him.

As soon as he mentioned it, the pieces clicked together for me, too. "You know what, you're right. But isn't that out of order?"

_"_ _Yeah, supposed to be broken. Like, doesn't work anymore. What could he possibly do?"_

I picked up the tablet and tapped on the pirate cove camera—after missing it a couple times. The thumbnails in the bottom corner were so small. Those curtains were still drawn and the sign still in place, so I put it back down.

"I'll keep checking on him, but maybe these are old tapes, before Foxy broke," I mused.

 _"_ _Dunno. The manager said he'd left them for you,"_ Hart pointed out.  _"I guess that doesn't mean he couldn't have pre-recorded them earlier."_

"Well, I guess we'll find out one way or another," I said.

At a couple minutes past midnight, I finally decided to check all the cameras. I figured that since the robots hadn't moved from the stage until well past the two-hour mark, they wouldn't move for a while longer.

Except Bonnie wasn't there anymore.

"Holy shit, he wasn't kidding when he said they got more active," I muttered.

_"_ _He really booked it, didn't he?"_

There was no way he could move very far in a few minutes. I took my time checking the feed to find him. The dumb rabbit was in the dining room, standing right beneath the camera and shrouded in darkness. I could make him out from the midsection up, and I thought it kind of looked like he was staring up at the camera, but I couldn't be certain with how dark it was.

"Well, he's just standing there again. I don't understand. . .why don't they move? Do they know I'm watching?" I mused, propping myself up with my hand under my chin.

Hart was silent for a beat.  _"How would they know, though?"_

"Because they're fucking ghosts, I guess?"

_"_ _Good point."_

For an hour and a half, I tracked Bonnie's progress. He stayed in the same position in the dining hall for a while, then moved to the end of my hallway. I almost closed my door, but remembered that all I would have to do is check the light to see if he was there. At the end of the hallway, I wasn't really in any danger.

So far, I had no reason to believe I was in any danger at all. Besides some roaming robots and creepy as fuck messages from a mysterious employee, nothing had happened. The rumors were taking control over logic and the darkness was planting seeds of fear in my mind.

All I had to do was stay calm until one of the robots in here proved to be malicious. Then I could worry about everything else.

 _"_ _Anything?"_  Hart asked after I set the tablet. No one else had moved yet.

I shook my head, then remembered he couldn't see it. "No. Bonnie was the end of the hallway last I checked. I haven't seen anything from Pirate Cove, either. . .maybe because I keep checking, maybe because he's  _broken_."

Hart chuckled.  _"Like you said, we'll find out eventually."_

When I checked the west hall, Bonnie's silhouette was gone. I backed up to turn the lights on in the doorway, but there was nothing, so I flitted through the feeds until I caught a glimpse of him and backtracked. He was close enough that all I could see were his shoulders up to his ears, and half of his face was obscured by shadows.

And he was right behind my doorway, just out of my line of sight.

"Oh shit, I didn't even hear him move past me," I breathed, finger hovering over the door lock until I finally closed it.

 _"_ _You probably shouldn't do that unless you see them in your door. I can hear your generator through the microphone. You don't want to run out of power, right?"_  Hart said. I let it sit for a moment longer, then sighed and opened it back up.

Might as well not actively try to figure out what happened when the lights go out.

"Can't you hear the generator anyway?"

_"_ _Only a little bit, but it gets really loud when you turn on the door lights or close the doors. Nothing else seems to take up much power."_

Sighing, I took a peek outside the door with my light. There was no Bonnie, so I went back to the cameras first to check on Pirate Cove—its curtains were still drawn, and we'd already made it past two AM.

Next, I monitored the stage. Chica was missing, but I found her in the dining hall. She was about as close to the camera as Bonnie had been, maybe even a few inches closer.

She, too, was almost completely obscured by the dark.

I watched my left door again before switching between feeds. Bonnie still wasn't in the doorway, Chica remained in the dining hall, and Pirate Cove was dormant as usual. Freddy, as the previous guard had already said, had yet to move from the stage.

As the night drew closer to three AM, Bonnie finally moved from the corner behind my door to the end of the hallway. Chica still had yet to do anything.

 _"_ _Wait, go back to the hallway,"_  Hart requested, startling me after we had sat in silence for so long.

I did as he asked, but the corner still looked the same. I went over it carefully, but couldn't seem to find anything. "What was it? Did you see something?"

He was silent as he examined the screen from his end, then sighed.  _"No, I guess not. Sorry."_

"No need to be," I said, barely paying attention to the conversation. I turned on the monitor to the stage to check on Freddy, expecting him not to have moved as per usual.

He was still on stage, but his head had turned to stare at me through the camera.

"What's this asshole looking at?" I snorted.

_"_ _You, I guess."_

I grimaced, watching Freddy for a couple minutes. "Devon, I swear to god. . . ."

_"_ _What? You asked."_

Biting back a retort, I turned off the tablet and checked both of the doors. I thought about keeping the tablet awake the entire night, but putting it to sleep seemed to make the generator a little happier, since the tablet had to be plugged in the whole time.

Stupid broken battery.

"You know, I kind of wish I could go walk around," I sighed, checking the stage camera.

Freddy was still staring.

 _"_ _Whatever for?"_  Hart asked, sounding flabbergasted.

Bonnie had moved back to the corner behind me and Chica was in the hallway, just outside of the sight range of my door and window. I didn't bother checking my lights when I could see them on camera.

For the time being, I checked on Pirate Cove to see if there were any changes.

Nothing.

To Hart I said, "I don't know, really. I guess I'm going stir crazy in here. I don't know, this office is just so small."

He chuckled and I could imagine him shaking his head.  _"That's a terrible idea. Why don't you stand for a while if you need to stretch?"_

It wasn't a half bad idea, so I pushed my chair out of the way and stood up, arching my back and stretching my arms over my head. I walked in place some in order to get the circulation back into my legs, then I sat back down.

_"_ _Feel better?"_

"Eh, a little."

I turned on the east hall's camera and found Chica missing. "Damn, sometimes they move fast, sometimes they don't. . .these assholes don't have any sort of pattern."

_"_ _Kinda weird for a robot, too."_

"That's what I was thinking."

Just to be sure, I checked the door before looking for her. There was nothing outside or in the window. While I was at it, I swiveled in my chair and hit the light switch for the door on my left. Two hours and twenty minutes into my shift and nothing but moving robots and empty doorways.

The light buzzed to life, banishing the shadows. Immediately, I shot to my feet. A tremor chased up my spine as my breath caught in my throat. All around me, the world dimmed and slowed to a crawl. I looked up, eyes widening, following the contours of Bonnie until my gaze finally settled on his own soulless eyes. His head was tilted, as if he found me curious.

Hart's voice came crashing onto me like a wave.  _"The door! Nichole, The door!_ Nichole _!"_

Snapping to my sense, I slapped my palm against the door switch. It came sliding down with a metallic hiss just as the animatronic rabbit lifted an arm, reaching.

My hands trembled as I sank back down into my seat. Inside my chest, my heart was thundering. I leaned my head back to look at the ceiling, mouth open. I swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth and inhaled shakily.

Up close, those things were huge. Bonnie easily took up the entire doorway, making it hard for me to believe he'd even fit inside. With his ears, he was way taller than eight feet. I rubbed my fingers against my palms and closed my eyes.

The first strike.

On the other end of my surveillance gear, I Hart was breathing as heavily as I was. Despite my heartbeat, I was keeping my own breathing even. I let the fear settle in my chest, accepted the danger, and opened my eyes again.

Truth be told, I had been getting  _bored._  Now that one of these fuckers had made a move, I found gusto that wasn't there before. I swiveled in my chair and flicked through the cameras one at a time until I found Chica. Freddy was back to facing the dining room, Pirate Cove still had its curtains drawn, and I finally found the chicken in the back of the dining hall.

She was facing the camera with her head turned slightly, her beak hanging open. Their stillness was creepier than if they had been moving.

 _"_ _Oh my god, I think he almost got you,"_ Hart spoke at last. He must have finally recovered enough to form words.

"I had it under control," I said, keeping my voice even.

_"_ _Jesus, if you had been just a little slower! Fuck, what would have even happened? Are you alright? Do you need anything?"_

I licked my lips and turned off the tablet's screen, then flicked on the light outside my left door to check on the rabbit. "Yeah, I need you to calm down or mute yourself until you do." My voice was thick and icy, a storm brewing beneath the calm.

He fell silent, but I could still hear him breathing. It was good enough.

After determining Bonnie was gone, I opened the door to quiet the raging generator and turned back to the cameras. He was at the end of the hallway again, lurking and waiting.

My screen turned to static and I swore under my breath. My fingers were still shaking as I flicked through the other cameras, waiting for them to come back online. Even before the picture was fully rendered, I knew Bonnie was no longer in the hallway: I could hear footsteps through the tablet.

 _"_ _Shit shit shit,"_  Hart hissed.

Doing my best to ignore him, I made careful progress through the camera feeds in search of the purple bunny. Chica was in the dining hall still, Freddy was still on the stage, Foxy was still quiet, and the rabbit was—was—

The rabbit was nowhere.

I turned the TVs off and stared at the table for a second. He wasn't on the cameras. There was only one place for him to be.

 _"_ _Get ready. . . ."_ I wondered if Hart needed to talk to stay calm.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I reached out and turned on the light. The same trill went through my entire being when I saw Bonnie staring down at me again. He was standing straighter this time, the curiosity in his posture gone, replaced with menace.

This time I didn't hesitate. I slammed the door shut on his face and let out a shaky breath.

 _"_ _Now he knows you're in there! He's not going to leave you alone."_  I heard something clatter to the floor back at the hotel and I winced.  _"Man! Fuck Bonnie!"_

Again, I closed my eyes and drew in a breath to steady myself. I didn't have anything to fight with. No weapons, no nothing. I considered bringing in my firearm for next time, but I wasn't sure what that was going to do against robots possibly possessed by spirits.

When I opened my eyes, I leaned forward and filtered through the camera's screens to check on the others.

Bonnie was in the dining hall.

"How the  _fuck_ —"

 _"_ _Did he get there so fast?"_  Hart finished for me.

I shook my head, unable to find the words. Hart probably didn't notice, but I couldn't muster up any fucks to give. Eyes on the monitor, I reached over and opened the door back up.

If Bonnie was in the dining room, then I wasn't sure where the chicken was. I checked the door light on my right, but she wasn't there. It seemed like the two of them stuck to their certain sides, so I didn't bother looking at any monitors located on the west end of the restaurant.

Finally, after checking the feeds a couple dozen times, I found her in the dining room, hanging out with Bonnie.

Unlike the previous night, she wasn't hiding in the back, just barely in view. Instead, she was up front and personal with the camera, staring into it. Her weird, teeth-rimmed beak was always parted. Bonnie's seemed to always be open, too, like they were both in mid-performance.

"Did you ever find out whether or not chickens or geese have teeth?" I asked. The clock on my desk read four-fifteen. Between waiting for the cameras to reset and taking all of these breathers, time was moving a lot slower than I felt it should. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe I was staring at the live feed too long.

_"_ _I completely forgot."_

"Probably for the best. . .more important things to worry about."

_"_ _Amen to that."_

The two animatronics hung back from the hallways for a while. I continued to flick through the cameras and track their movements, but as time went by, the generator roared louder and louder. I could hear it as feedback through Hart's microphone and I grit my teeth. Too much camera time. I was using them too often, relying on them.

 _"_ _Have you checked Foxy recently?"_ Hart asked, as if he wasn't watching this in real time.

I was still on edge from the close calls with Bonnie, but after an hour of nothing else happening, I was beginning to grow bored again. So, to humor him, I brought up that feed.

"I don't know why we bother," I murmured. "He's out of order. The guy said that he doesn't work—oh, hello."

The curtain was drawn back just a few inches, and the animatronic inside was partially revealed, staring straight toward the camera. His jaws were parted in a silent snarl, eyes glowing from inside the dark and teeth reflecting the light from outside. I thought I saw a hole in his chest, ragged and torn. My heart fluttered.

_"_ _So he wasn't lying. . .the thing really does come out sometimes."_

"I'll just check on him more often," I said with a shrug. Part of me wanted to know how he worked, but that was a dangerous game.

Bonnie and Chica were accounted for—Chica was still in the bathroom and Bonnie was backstage. Freddy still had yet to step off of the stage, but he occasionally turned to look at the camera.

I tried to spend more time with the tablet off and use only the door lights to check for would-be intruders, but not knowing where they were was horrible, coupled with sitting in that room and doing nothing. Just waiting.

Watching the clock as the minutes passed gave me more anxiety than just tracking the robots, but I had to conserve power. Who knew what would happen if that generator ran out of juice. I had been too liberal. How much power did I have? An hour? I had a little over two hours left. . .I would have to stretch the electricity as far as it could go.

And that meant keeping off of the cameras for extended periods of time. I even turned off the fan for a few minutes, but the room heated up too quickly. I would perish of heat stroke if I didn't leave the damn thing on.

It was so cold outside, so I didn't understand it.

At four in the morning, I checked the cameras again.

Foxy was the first robot I looked in on. The curtain was open wider and he was out of his cave, head cocked and hook hand raised up. He seemed to be the only animatronic that had glowing eyes, and I couldn't decide which one was creepier.

"Where're you gonna go?" I whispered, squinting at the screen.

_"_ _What was that?"_

"Nothing."

Purple bunny was back in the dining room, standing in the shadows in front of the camera. The stupid chicken had yet to remove herself from the bathrooms and continued to stare up at the camera with the same condescending expression.

With Foxy potentially on the loose, I found myself turning his monitor on a lot more frequently. He was an unknown, much like Freddy. When the moment came that Freddy stepped from his pedestal, I knew it would mean business. I had no idea what to expect when Foxy came, and I wanted to be ready for it, whatever it was.

"Devon," I called.

_"_ _What is it?"_

"I don't know what he's going to do." My voice shook, and I hated it.

He inhaled sharply.  _"Just stay calm. Watch the cameras. Maybe close your door until you figure out what he's up to?"_

I shook my head. "I don't have the power to spare for that. I have two hours left, I can't run out of power."

My heart thumped against my ribcage and blood roared in my ears. Every sense was on high alert and the muscles in my arms twitched, readying my reflexes.

Foxy was coming. I could feel it.

Bonnie moved to the hallway about fifteen minutes later. The minutes were dragging, and besides Foxy and Bonnie, none of the other animatronics were doing anything.

"I can't stand this waiting!" I groaned, slapping my palms against the table.

_"_ _Hey, careful what you wish for! This downtime is a blessing. I don't think my heart can take any more surprises."_

Huffing, I flicked through the screens one after the other again, trying to keep track of everyone. As soon as I turned on the stage camera, though, the feed cut out and I had to wait for it to reset. I accidentally turned on the kitchen monitor, mistaking it for the hall, and heard pots and pans clanging together—was that Chica rooting around in there?

"What a fatass," I muttered.

_"_ _Who?"_

I indicated toward the monitor before I shut it off. "The chicken thing."

Once again, Bonnie had moved to the corner of the hall, right behind my doors. I glowered at him, then shut off the cameras and listened to the rumbling sound of the generator. So much for saving power. My fingers curled in and out of fists. How was I going to make it the next hour and a half?

Outside in the hall, I heard something. I listened closely, then slammed on the monitor for the hallway. Adrenaline spiked. My muscles seized.

Sprinting down the west hallway, the first animatronic to move on-screen so far, was Foxy.


	7. Kicking Distance

_"_ _H_ _oly—"_

The world slowed to a crawl again. I whirled around in my chair, shoving it backwards as I dove for the door lock, one arm outstretched and the other set to brace me when I fell.

_"—_ _fuck!"_

Inches away. My fingertips brushed the switch. I hit the ground seconds before the metal barrier slid to a close. I caught a glimpse of endoskeleton legs skittering to a stop outside the portal and I pushed my torso up, panting.

Three pounds resounded through the tiny office. I flinched each time, my breath shuddering. After the sounds stopped, I picked myself up off the floor inch by inch. From the corner of my eye I noticed my earpiece sitting on the floor and I picked it up, wiped it on my shirt, then placed it back in my ear. Hart was on the other side, calling my name.

_"_ _What the_ fuck _was that?"_ he demanded after I answered.

I was trembling in every limb. It was excruciating attempting to sit in my chair, but I managed. The generator behind the wall protested about the door being closed, but before I opened it, I checked on Pirate Cove.

The curtains were shut again, as if nothing had happened.

I stared at the image on screen for a moment before I rolled toward the door and popped it open. The light switched on with another push of a button, but the hallway was clear.

_"_ _That thing was_ booking _it!"_

At last, I released the breath I'd been holding and I rubbed my face in my hands. Hart fell silent and waited for me to catch my breath. Then, and only then, did I speak.

"If I hadn't checked the camera, or if I'd been a little slower. . . ."

It was my turn to be stricken with panic.

_"_ _Don't talk like that. You did great. That was fucking terrifying, but you did better than I think I would have. . . . I would have just froze,"_ Devon predicted.

So he  _could_ be calm and rational when he needed to be.

For a moment, I was back on that dark, humid ship. They blended in with the walls so well, they moved as silent as death if they wanted. I had to act quick if I was to survive—all of my training in sports had honed my reflexes to react on a dime. It had been my only saving grace.

And it had saved my life once again.

If one thing came out of this stupid ordeal, it was that I hadn't lost my reflexes despite the down time. I wasn't in sports because of my legs, but I still did everything I could to keep my wits sharp and my body in shape.

_"_ _You got a little less than an hour and a half. Can you make it? Should I call for backup and have the place raided?"_  Hart asked. I could hear him rummaging with something back at the hotel, and he sounded as keyed-up as I felt.

I glanced at the clock and swallowed. "I can make it. But if these things get rougher every day, I'm bringing back the rest of the tapes to listen to and we should go over every inch of footage to see what we can dredge up. Hit the streets even harder,  _make_  those employees talk. If I don't  _have_  to come back here tomorrow night, then even better."

_"_ _So, get as much evidence as we can in the next 18 hours and see if we can dig up enough to take this establishment down?"_

"Exactly."

He was quiet for a moment, but I could hear the rustling of papers until he spoke.  _"Well, you better be on top of your game. I'll try to watch out for you from here."_

"Thanks."

Mutual silence settled around us. I listened closely to the generator, and I was certain that the power wasn't going to last. I changed my tactics to checking the camera only on Pirate Cove and the stage, to make sure that Freddy and Foxy were where they were supposed to be. It meant giving up knowing the exact location of Chica and Bonnie, but I made sure to watch the door lights to make sure they weren't going to creep up on me.

I turned on the screen for Foxy, studying the curtain to see if he was peeking out even a little bit. They were still drawn, but something new was coming from the speakers.

"Dum dadum dum deedly do dum dum. Dum dum do dadumdum de dum dum do."

"What the fuck is that?" I snorted.

Hart didn't answer right away and we listened to the strange singing coming from Pirate Cove. I realized that it was Foxy, keeping himself entertained while he was behind that curtain.

I leaned back in seat and scoffed. "What a fucking nerd."

_"_ _What right does he have to be bored enough to sing? Is he mocking you?"_  Devon muttered, disgruntled and even insulted.

"Fuck if I know. Not much I can do, so just gonna ignore him," I sighed, turning off the screen and waiting for a few minutes. The more the generator elevated in volume, the more time I spent not doing anything to ensure I had enough power to last the night.

At this point, I was skeptical about that.

Foxy was my number one priority over everything else. Freddy still showed no signs of life, so I stopped watching him altogether. It wasn't until five o'clock that Chica stepped up her game, either. I flicked on the lights to my right-hand door and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw the stupid chicken staring in my window.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, slamming the door shut.

It didn't seem to bother the animatronic. I turned on the light periodically to check on her, but she remained in that window, peering in. The fact that she could see me in that tiny office, but without my light on I couldn't see her, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I could feel her eyes on me and my shoulders tensed.

Bonnie hadn't shown up in the left door for an hour. Chica, however, was intent on draining what little power remained in the generator.

"Go away. Go away go away go away go away!" I shouted after fifteen minutes had passed and she was still there. I turned the hall light on and off to chase her away, but she remained in the same position and the same spot the entire time. Unmoving and unblinking.

Taunting.

_"_ _Why won't she leave?"_

I was on my feet, teeth grinding together. "Leave you stupid bitch! You're stealing all of my power! Oh my  _god_!"

_"_ _She'll get in there if the generator overheats, right? Or will she lose power, too?"_

"I don't know, Devon! Shut up!"

He harrumphed.  _"Sor-ry."_

While I waited, I worked a tight, circular rut into the floor of my office. "She's doing this on purpose, isn't she? She knows I'm low on power! There's no other explanation!"

_"_ _Sure looks that way."_

I hurt my finger turning on the light, but this time there was no chicken in the window. I opened the door back up, collapsed into my chair, and leaned my head back. "Thank god she finally left."

_"_ _Yeah, but what's that sound? Is that the generator? It sounds like it's gonna explode."_

The pressing hum had become background noise for a while. As Hart brought it up, I focused on the noise and my pulse thumped against my throat. It was struggling to keep up with the amount of stress I had put on it, but I couldn't afford not to look at Pirate Cove, and without knowing where the other two were, I  _had_ to check the halls. . . .

That was it. I'd spent too much time staring at the tablet and watching the cameras. I'd spent too much time trying to find things. Nothing changed—only Foxy so far had moved while the camera was on him. Anything else in the cameras we could look at later.

My paranoia had doomed me.

"Devon, what am I going to do if the power goes out? You think I can make a break for the door or something?" I asked after making sure Foxy was behind his curtains.

_"_ _Maybe. If you have your key ready to unlock the door."_

My fingers dug into the armrests of my chair until my knuckles turned white. I tried hard not to check anything for a long while, trying to stretch the last fifteen minutes out. The generator strummed in my ears and my brain vibrated in my skull.

A sound outside the door made me twitch. I whirled and flicked on the light—sure enough, Bonnie was standing outside the entrance, his arm raised slightly. My breath snagged in my throat and I shut the door in his face. It was met with a slight scraping noise and I groaned.

"No—no I'm not going to have enough power!" I wailed.

_"_ _And that was the closest hallway to the door."_

"I  _know that,_  Devon."

The light flickered at my touch, but I could still see Bonnie's shadow on the window. I kicked the door out of frustration and tugged at my hair. "This sucks! This sucks!"

_"_ _Just stay calm."_

He was echoing my own thoughts. I knew I could get out of this if I thought rationally, and to do that I would have to collect myself and not panic. If I had panicked in the hive, I wouldn't have made it out. If I could do it when I was seventeen, then I could do it now.

But something was wrong. . . .

It was quiet.

From behind the walls the generator had ceased its buzzing and powered down with a low, mechanical whirr. It was followed swiftly by the lights.

And I was bathed in darkness.

"Devon," I whispered. It was too close to a whimper for my tastes.

_"_ _Oh shit."_

My fucking hero.

I had never been in this kind of darkness before. It swallowed everything and gave nothing back. In my office there was no light to offer refuge, just blackness. My blood roared in my ears and I fought to keep my breathing under control, using the pace of my clenching and unclenching hands as a base. Each step was calculated to minimize sound as I backed against the wall, dragging my chair in front of me.

If anything, I could use it as a shield.

It seemed like forever that I stood behind my chair, waiting for the rabbit to enter and drag me to Hell. However, he never wandered inside my office. Everything was quiet except for my pulse in my ears. I could hear each breath I inhaled like they were drums of war. I even imagined I could hear my eyes move as they darted around to look through the dark room.

The darkness was thick enough that I could only make out vague shapes—the monitors, my desk, that stupid cupcake. There were only two things darker than my office: the hallways on either side of me. They opened up like hungry maws and set my teeth on edge the longer I stared into them.

_"_ _Nothing's happening,"_  Hart said. I wasn't sure why he felt the need to whisper, it wasn't like the animatronics could hear him through the earpiece.

I said nothing in response and waited. Every muscle was coiled and taut, making my extremities tremble. My heart continued its attempts to break free of my ribcage while I waited. Waiting was almost worse—like ripping a Band-Aid off compared to carefully peeling it.

_"_ _So. . .can you leave?"_

He was still whispering. It didn't help. I wasn't going to remove myself from that corner until the alarm went off—wait.

The power was out.

I spared a glance toward my desk where darkness had settled. There were no neon numbers telling me the time. The fan was silent. I had no way of knowing the time short of wasting precious moments looking at my phone.

Perhaps I could ask Hart, but I didn't dare speak. Even my breathing was too loud for my comfort. Strategies flashed through my mind's eye, but they were all moot when I considered there were four of them and one of me, and one of them would be more than enough.

Hart's headset rustled and cast static straight into my skull, making me wince. My mouth bobbed up and down as I tried to decide if I should call out to him, but I couldn't bring myself to make even a peep.

He was gone, that was all I knew.

I had to hope he was coming to the restaurant, but at the same time it didn't make sense for both of us to die. I was suddenly aware of how alone I was.

At last, sound.

It reminded me of a music box's tune, soft chimes and bells in lieu of larger instruments. In any other situation I would picture a little plastic ballerina twirling on her stand, but that thought was far away. The music reminded me that I wasn't alone in the dark, and that death had finally come to claim me. I turned my head millimeters per second, eyes widening at the same pace.

A face flashed in the darkness, pulsating to the tempo. Such an upbeat tune was perverted into something sinister. The song, meant to be a lullaby, brought me little comfort as I stared, mouth agape, at the flashing eyes illuminating Freddy Fazbear's face.

Should I run? No, that wouldn't work. Running was a fine idea, but who was to say the other animatronics didn't have the exits blocked off? The only way out now was through the opposite hallway and that was the furthest from the front door. Freddy would cut me off, and I had to pass by Pirate Cove. Foxy was in working order so he could leap out and grab me. . . .

What could I do?

Wait it out? Hope that the clock struck six am before he grabbed me?

As much as I hated it, it seemed like my best option.

The song continued, Freddy's face blinking in and out of visibility. He didn't seem to be moving closer, but he didn't need to. I was a cornered animal waiting for slaughter and he was aware that I could go nowhere but into his metallic paws.

Just as quick as it started, it ended, and I was cast into darkness again. I didn't dare breathe, I didn't dare blink.

My limbs itched to do something. I gripped the chair in front of me with an iron-clad grasp, ready to push it into the giant bear as he came at me. Icy fingers wrapped around my heart and I widened my stance, relocating my center of gravity. I wasn't just going to go down easy, even if I would be fighting against a machine.

However, as silence and blackness closed in on me until I could see or hear nothing, not a thing happened. No robot bear. No robot anything.

Only myself alone in a small office.

I waited as long as I could, straining to listen. For being such a large animatronic, the thing certainly didn't make any noise when it moved. My senses reached out, trying to find anything in the room. Goosebumps made me sensitive to the slightest vibrations in the air, but there was nothing except the eerie sense that I was still being watched. . . .

More waiting. I would die to the waiting before I did anything else.

Swift movement. Fabric on hard tile. I seized where I stood and from the darkness came a large figure, bulky and mechanical. Its face lit up and I could see Freddy, leaning toward me with his jaws parted and arms up. From him emanated a horrific screeching sound.

Before I could stop it, my scream pierced the air like an arrow. I stumbled backwards, hands flying up toward my face to ward off the attack. When I hit the wall, I slid to the floor, pinned in the corner. Freddy shuffled toward me, but found the chair in his way. It slammed against my shins until I curled my legs to protect them.

The chair halted any further movements Freddy attempted. I lifted my feet and braced against the chair, pushing back so he didn't crush me with it. It strained my muscles and elicited from me gasps and whimpers.

His felt-covered fingers groped and his arms swung haphazardly inches from my face. Several times he managed to grab a stray lock of hair and the tips of his digits brushed the collar of my security guard uniform or my wrists. I always snatched everything out of the way in time, but my muscles were starting to tremble and I was losing strength fast.

I snarled and shoved against the chair with all of my might, but I couldn't put enough distance between myself and Freddy to warrant an escape.

Seconds before I was about to collapse from exhaustion, the screeching and pressure stopped. Freddy froze, his face staring at me. I didn't relax, too afraid this was a ruse. My chest heaved with each breath and I couldn't stop myself from quivering as Freddy's soulless gaze pierced into my being.

_Next time,_  he seemed to say.

Then he stood straight, turned with a whirring sound, and shuffled out of the office into darkness. I remained on the floor for a period, then scrambled to my feet when nothing else happened. Though I might have had only a few seconds, I pulled my phone from my pocket and woke up the screen with a click.

Six oh one.

Freddy's time had run out.


	8. Subdue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> Welp, this is it. The last chapter. So, this is my attempt to wrap this thing up in a neat little bow. It's not very clean, sorry.
> 
> Also, I'd like to apologize to my Noctivagant Series readers. She might be a TAAADD out of character. But that's ok, because this whole thing is non-canon. I can't stress this enough. As far as the main series is concerned, this DIDN'T HAPPEN. :) Just a fun side story because I loved these games.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. See you in the next story.
> 
> ~ Crayola

Relief mixed with panic and I yanked open the drawers to the desk and fumbled for the tape recorder and the cassettes. When I had them all in hand, I grabbed an empty foam cup from the floor and shoved the tapes inside, recorder still grasped in my hand.

Before one of the animatronics could change its mind, I bolted through the dark halls, stumbling on trash and strewn wires, toward the front door.

"Hart," I hissed into the mic. There was no response. He was gone, though I didn't know where. I bumped into several walls but didn't stop. Outside of the hallways, everything was brighter thanks to the street lights outside.

The key was in my hand and poised to strike before I reached the automatic doors. In my haste, I had forgotten they could be unlocked by hand from the inside and I fumbled with the lock, fighting clumsiness to twist it enough times until it clicked.

Pulling the doors open was hard, but I managed. Sliding them shut was easier, and I jammed the key in the lock as fast as I could, twisting it and jiggling it until the door latched.

Somehow, I managed not to break the key.

That sound echoed into the night and I collapsed there on the pavement, foam cup hitting the ground and scattering its contents. My heart threatened to beat fast enough to tear a hole through space-time and I struggled to catch my breath.

Slowly, never once taking my eyes off the door, I stood to my feet and wiped my mouth.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and instinctively grabbed it, throwing the person over my shoulder and laying them out. Hart landed in a heap on his back, grunting.

It took an extra second for me to realize it was him. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Why didn't you tell me you were approaching?" I panted, offering my hand. He gathered his wits and let me help him to his feet.

"I  _did_ ," he groaned, pushing on his lower back. "I called out to you three times."

"Sorry," I muttered, unable to come up with anything better. My whole body was still trembling and my heart had yet to simmer down.

He sighed and rubbed his head, then helped me picked up all of the cassettes scattered across the sidewalk. His hands were shaking, too.

"What happened?" he asked. "How did you get away? Did you outrun them or something?"

My hand fluttered to my forehead and I winced when I stepped wrong with my leg. "No. Time just. . .ran out I guess."

"Fuck, Nichole. You are  _not_  going back in there tomorrow or  _ever_."

I shook my head and rubbed my shoulders. "If we can't figure out what's going on in this place, then I'll have to go back tomorrow."

"No," he insisted, putting a hand on my shoulder. The other was still holding the cup full of tapes. "I don't care. You barely got out tonight and it's only your second shift! You heard the mysterious phone guy, they only get more active as the week progresses."

Aware of his proximity, I pulled away and hunched my shoulders. "I just have to watch my power usage. I got the hang of it there at the end, it'll be okay."

His arms fell to his side and he huffed. "If I can help it, you're not going back there. Let's get back to the hotel and we'll try to cool down before listening to these tapes. You hungry? Thirsty? Want some ice cream or something?"

"Do I  _look_  like a small child?" I shot back.

"Ice cream fixes everything. That and Band-Aids," he insisted.

At first, I thought he was trying to mock me, but when I saw how his shoulders shook and the way his eyes bugged that he was just as shaken by the events as I was. He was trying to distract us from how close I had been to being killed.

Misdirected anger faded from me and I relaxed my shoulders. Hart was trying to help, in his own way. There would be time to get mad later, but I shouldn't aim my frustrations at him.

"I could go for some food. But no ice cream, it's six in the morning."

He nodded and relaxed, then led the way toward the hotel. "Sure thing. McDonald's breakfast?"

"Why not." I looked back at the pizzeria one last time as we left. It was dark and quiet. The knowledge that children were going to be inside there sometime during the day sent a tremor up my spine. They were so close to such malicious machinery and didn't even know it.

Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

*:･ﾟ✧

I was exhausted. Mentally and physically. After Hart and I bought ourselves some breakfast, I promptly passed right the fuck out. All that adrenaline had drained every ounce of energy I had—I didn't even leave Hart's room after breakfast.

He was on the farthest edge of the bed possible when I woke up. There wasn't a couch in either room, so I couldn't even be mad.

Irritated, but not mad.

It's not like I'd woken up with him cuddling me, so I ignored him and his snoring and crawled out of bed to take a shower—in my own room—while he finished his beauty rest.

Feeling refreshed and reinvigorated, I knocked on Hart's door. There was no answer, but the door between our rooms was still unlocked, so I let myself in.

He was still sound asleep.

"Devon."

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Sighing, I marched over and shook him. When he didn't stir, I grabbed his hand and pulled him the rest of the way off the bed; he'd practically been hanging off the bed to avoid touching me in our sleep, so it was easy.

Hart shouted in pain and surprise as he hit the floor. His eyes were wild as he scrambled up to his feet and I had to take a step back to avoid being slammed into.

_So that's what I look like._

"Time to get up," I said, standing a safe distance from him.

He stared at me like I'd grown a second head, then let out a breath and relaxed. "Geez, what a fucking wake up call."

"I tried the polite way. It didn't work. This did. Now, get ready so we can start working and get a report filed. If we're lucky, we can be headed home by tonight," I said, wandering over to the table where the surveillance gear was situated.

Yawning, Hart said, "Alright. Gimme a few to brush my teeth and shower and stuff."

"Fine."

Hart took his stuff into the bathroom with him and I set about organizing all our things and jotting down a few notes that stood out to me about what we knew so far.

Child murders—the culprit had been arrested even if the bodies were never found.

" _Questionable business practices—paying employees under the table, short cuts to save money, and faulty equipment among other things._

_"_ _The animatronics are hostile—inconclusive as to whether it's coding or supernatural._

_"_ _Those tapes indicate that the company is fully aware of the issues and are doing nothing to rectify the situation."_

There was a number of other things, but as I finished gathering those thoughts, Hart emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, his hair still wet, and drew my attention.

"Alright, what's first on the agenda?" he asked, sitting across from me.

I glanced over at him. "Are you hungry?"

He shrugged. "I'll order something later. Why, are you?"

"No, just wondering. I was thinking we should listen to these tapes, first, and then we could—" I didn't even get to finish talking.

"Did you eat already?"

"What? No, I'm not hungry yet. Focus, Devon. The tapes."

"Right, right."

Rolling my eyes, I popped in the tapes in turn and we spent some time listening to the mysterious employee drone on.

The third tape was even shorter than the second one and offered almost no help, unlike the other two. He implied that there may have been other night guards who all left—or were  _killed,_ though he denied meaning that.

Other than that, he came up with a terrible plan to play dead. Go limp if the animatronics came inside the office to trick them into leaving.

But, he recognized the own stupidity of his suggestion and told us to just not get caught.

Brilliant.

"Well," Devon said as I fired up the fourth night's tape, "isn't he just a regular ball of sunshine. That tape had nothing useful on it except that there might have been others."

I sighed. "Yeah, but since they were paid off the record, we wouldn't be able to find them at all."

"The local police department said they'd call me with a list of missing people within the time that the restaurant has been open. Hopefully they get back to me soon," he assured me.

"Alright, well, I'm playing the next one."

_"_ _Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day four. I knew you could do it."_

The tone was immediately different. There was noise in the background—knocking? Shuffling?—and the recorder's voice wasn't as upbeat as usual.

 _"_ _Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow. It's—It's been a bad night here for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you,"_ he paused to clear his throat, and the banging in the background was more pronounced, " _uh, when I did._

My partner and I exchanged grave glances. There was a longer pause and all we had to listen to was scraping and knocking.

" _Uh, hey, do me a favor. Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room? I'm gonna to try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad. Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there."_

Freddy's chime started playing over the banging sounds in the background, setting my teeth on edge. I suppressed the urge to jump out of my skin and focused on what the man was saying.

 _"_ _You know. . . ."_  he trailed off and an otherworldly moaning almost drowned out the rest of his words.  _"Oh no. . . ."_

There was a fumbling sound, as if he'd dropped the recording device, followed by a mechanical screech. Static filled the room, and then the recording stopped altogether.

We sat in silence for a moment while all that had happened sunk in.

It was Hart who broke the silence first.

"So. . .he died, yeah?"

I shot him a glare and said, "Tasteful, Devon. But yes, that's what appears to have happened."

He pointed to the last tape. "So then, what's on this tape?"

Frowning, I put it in and let it rewind like I had all the others. "I don't know. Maybe it's empty. Guess we'll find out."

"Yeah."

When I played it, it made my skin crawl. There was no voice, no playful "hello, hello!" Just garbled gibberish in a deep, menacing tone. It was laced with intermittent feedback that shrieked.

Then it cut off, and that was it.

"Ominous," Hart muttered, leaning back in his chair.

Shaking my head, I piled all the tapes together and crossed my arms over my chest. "I think this is plenty to at least get a warrant. Let's call back to headquarters."

"Right. We'll make a report, and then I'll call. You're not going back in there tonight if I can help it," Hart muttered, grabbing the laptop.

"I can handle it!"

"But you shouldn't  _have_ to. So, let's get this done," he said, sounding very matter-of-fact.

Deciding not to argue, I went through more of the file to dig up anything else we could find. Another nail in this stupid company's coffin.

*:･ﾟ✧

They watched our footage. They read our report and heard the stories. In the end, they sent over more agents from the correct department to raid the place. Freddy's attack on me when the power went out had been more than enough to spur my bosses into action.

Everyone arrived an hour before the place closed. Devon and I led the team inside and all civilians were evacuated while others rounded up the employees.

The current owner couldn't be contacted, so an APB was put out to find him.

A team garbed in SWAT-grade gear surrounded the animatronics on stage as well as Foxy's personal corner. They had guns drawn, though I wasn't sure what good it would do.

"They supposedly don't move until midnight, boss," Hart mentioned.

"Not taking our chances. Nichole was almost grabbed by one of them, and they may be behind more disappearances," came the tart reply.

I couldn't say I didn't blame them.

"We've got a team coming in who's going to check the programming to see if all of this is due to faulty wiring or something more paranormal," he continued. We were standing off to the side, watching the managers and employees be rounded up for questioning down at the local station.

I asked, "You guy check the back suits?"

The man in charge nodded. "We've got CSI running over every inch looking for blood or anything else we might find. No bodies discovered yet, but they just started."

Hart and I muttered acknowledge and then excused ourselves outside. A small gathering had formed outside of our crime scene tape as locals clamored to see what was going on. We ignored them and any press present to jump inside one of our vehicles.

"Guess we'll find out whether this is gross negligence or vengeful spirits soon, eh?" mused Hart as we settled in.

Sighing, I replied, "Guess so. I'm ready to go home and sleep for a week, though."

"Me, too."

For now, though, we'd just have to settle for a nap as we were driven to the nearest airport. They didn't need us anymore, and we'd handed over everything we'd gathered already.

I couldn't wait to go back to chasing aliens. At least those were easy to weed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, readers!
> 
> I've been working on something - original content! I made a patreon to help with my project, so head over there at /kaylanhodge to learn more! Don't worry, fanfiction will still continue to be posted on the usual (ir)regular schedule!
> 
> ~ Crayola


End file.
